


Run Away with Me

by tiigi



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Eddie is 18, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Richie is the gym coach from hell, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, for me anyway, in the past though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiigi/pseuds/tiigi
Summary: “Well, maybe this is a good thing?” She suggests, knocking their shoulders together.“How? I’m eighteen! I shouldn’t have to–”“Exercise?” Beverly raises an eyebrow.“Exactly!”***Getting Richie as his gym coach for senior year might be the best thing that’s ever happened to Eddie. Or the worst - he hasn’t decided yet.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 182
Kudos: 270





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to get this all written before I started posting but that was never realistically going to happen so here we are :’)
> 
> Just a disclaimer: obviously this kind of relationship in real life is incredibly inappropriate and harmful. Fiction can be a fun way to explore things like this from a safe distance so yeah
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Eddie starts senior year with a positive outlook on the whole thing. He’s been a good student throughout the years, his teachers like him and he has his best friends right here with him. He just has to muddle his way through one more year before he’s reached graduation, and he can start the rest of his life.

And then he meets Richie Tozier.

More accurately, he meets Coach Tozier, on his first day of classes after summer break. He’s not particularly looking forward to gym class but he’s not exactly dreading it either - both Ben and Bev are in the class with him which is definitely something to be thankful for, but in the past his mother made it impossible for him to actually take part. After a track lesson in freshman year where Eddie had stumbled and grazed his knee, she had marched into the office and demanded that Eddie be excused from any future gym lessons. The school probably wouldn’t have agreed if she hadn’t been such a formidable woman, and her reign over Eddie’s education probably wouldn’t have lasted so long if the coach hadn’t been so old and uninterested. Over the years, he seemed to forget that Eddie was in the class at all.

So really, Eddie doesn’t expect anything to be different this year. He gets changed with Ben in the farthest corner of the locker rooms to avoid anyone staring, and they meet up with Beverly in the hall. Eddie’s gym pumps leave black marks against the floor, and he draws little smiling faces with them as Bev and Ben whisper to each other.

Eddie takes a seat on the bleachers after a few moments and pulls out his phone. If he’s going to sit here doing nothing for the next hour of his life, he can at least try to entertain himself. He gets so caught up in a dumb game of candy crush that he doesn’t even notice the hush falling over his classmates until a new voice starts speaking.

“Jesus, you all look miserable.” Eddie frowns. That doesn’t sound like their old coach. “I mean, no wonder. You have to take an hour of gym class with me. Still, cheer up, would you? Smile or something.”

Eddie doesn’t recognise the man standing in front of the class, but it’s not hard to figure out what’s going on. The guy is dressed in an obnoxiously red track suit and there’s a whistle hanging around his neck. He has too much stubble to look professional and his hair hangs around his head like some sort of shaggy halo, but other than that he looks the perfect picture of a high school gym teacher. Shit.

“Right,” He says, continuing. “I’m Mr Tozier, but you can call me Coach or Sir. I don’t know how you did things with your old teacher but I’m starting a new system. You’re gonna pick an activity and rotate every week. No one gets to slack off while I’m here, got it?”

Eddie catches Beverly’s eye and makes a face. She responds similarly and he smiles. He can’t believe they actually replaced the ancient gym coach they’d had for the past two decades, but perhaps what’s even more unbelievable is the fact that Tozier thinks he can get them to exercise. It’s just entirely unlikely.

He doesn’t even realise anything is out of the ordinary until he hears Beverly hiss his name. Only then does he look up to find everybody staring at him, to find that Tozier has been trying to catch his attention.

“You,” He says again, clicking his fingers in Eddie’s general direction. “What are you doing up there? Didn’t you hear me? No one slacks off in my class.”

“Oh, no.” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t really, uh, _do_ gym. The old coach had me sit out and watch.”

“Sit out and watch?” Tozier repeats mockingly. Eddie feels his cheeks flushing warm with humiliation and he scowls, nods stubbornly. Tozier continues. “Well I’m not the old coach. You got a note?”

“No, but–” 

“Then get down here with the rest of your classmates and pick an activity, short stack.”

Eddie gapes, mouth hanging open in disbelief. If he was at home he would start to flap his arms and flail in anger, but thankfully he manages to save himself that humiliation as well. Eddie is _not_ short. He’s an average height for his age! Who the fuck does this guy think he is? They have had a system for _years,_ and Tozier spends one day on the job and now he has a hard on for power? He thinks he can change the way things are with no context or experience at all? What a fucking asshole.

He makes his way down from the bleachers like it’s a walk of shame, head hanging, cheeks burning. Beverly welcomes him with an arm over his shoulders and Ben presses close at his other side, Eddie’s own personal protection squad. Eddie stews in his own resentment as Tozier starts assigning people activities.

“What a fucking douchebag,” Eddie whispers, arms crossed tight across his chest. Beverly hums sympathetically, But he knows she’s hiding a smile.

“Well, maybe this is a good thing?” She suggests, knocking their shoulders together.

“How? I’m eighteen! I shouldn’t have to–”

“Exercise?” Beverly raises an eyebrow.

“Exactly!”

“Eddie,” she groans, taking a step away from him to start stretching. Eddie can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees her wink at Ben as she does it. They’re so into each other, it’s disgusting. “This isn’t all bad. You used to be good at running track– why not try that again?”

“No way,” Eddie shakes his head. “I’m coming back with a note tomorrow and Tozier can choke on it. He’ll be lucky if my mother doesn’t want to come see him herself.” Beverly sighs again, and all of a sudden the bravado drains out of him. He hates it when he disappoints Beverly. He trusts her opinion more than anyone else, and he feels embarrassed all over again at the thought of her judging him.

“If you think that’s best, Eddie, obviously go for it. I’m just saying… you can’t live under your mom’s thumb forever. Choose a sport or something. Take a risk.” With that, she jogs away to the other side of the hall to grab a basketball. Ben follows her, after giving Eddie a sympathetic pat on the back and an awkward smile.

Wonderful. Not only has Tozier forced Eddie to do exercise and shamed him in front of all his peers, he’s now driven a wedge between Eddie and his friends as well. As far as first impressions go, this guy is fucking up on all counts.

Unsurprisingly, exercise sucks. That could be because Eddie hasn’t done it in a good four years, but he chooses to believe it’s because of Tozier anyway. Eddie chooses basketball with Bev and Ben in the end, because he’d rather be on a rotation with them if he has to do this at all. Maybe basketball was the wrong activity to start with because, whilst everyone got their growth spurt a few years ago, Eddie stayed at a stubborn five foot six, and it really doesn’t help when he’s trying to defend the goal. At one point he narrowly avoids taking an elbow to the face when he jumps to knock the ball out of someone’s hands, and instead of terrifying him, it gets his body pumping with adrenaline. Maybe Beverly was right. Maybe he should stop living under his mom’s thumb. Maybe he can actually learn to enjoy gym all over again–

A hand falls heavily on Eddie’s shoulder, and a voice that is quickly becoming far too familiar says, “Interesting choice, short stack. I expected you to go with gymnastics. Maybe kickboxing.” He laughs to himself, like he’s made some hilarious joke that no one seems to understand. Eddie fumes. He hates that his pesky respect for authority means he can’t say what he’d like to this guy. 

“Basketball is about skill,” he says haughtily. “You don’t have to be tall. You just have to know what you’re doing, and I–” 

Out of nowhere, the ball slams into Eddie’s face. There’s a collective ‘ooh’ from both teams and Eddie cries out involuntarily, hand clutching his nose where the ball hit. Something wet tickles his nose and he realises with a little zap of terror that his nose is bleeding. Fuck, what if it’s broken? What if his mom sees a bruise and realises what happened? This is going to be such a nightmare.

“Jesus, let me look at that.” Despite everything, Tozier is gentle when he pulls Eddie’s hand away, lifting up each individual finger one by one. “Oh, you’re fine. It’s just a bruise. Go and get some tissues, you’ll be fine.”

Eddie takes it back. Tozier is a mean little bastard. 

“Holy shit– I mean, um, shoot. Sorry, sir.” Beverly’s voice carries over the hall and within seconds she’s by his side. “Eddie, jeez, why do these things only ever happen to you?” She takes up a place on Eddie’s other side and walks him over to the bleachers again. 

“I think there are some antibacterial wipes in my bag,” Eddie says. He can’t tell if his voice is nasally or not when he’s pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll go get them,” Bev says. Eddie watches her go, and turns to Tozier with a frown.

“Uh, is she allowed to go in the boys’ locker room?”

Tozier pauses, furrows his eyebrows as though he’s thinking hard about this, and then shrugs. His fingers brush Eddie’s chin and he tilts Eddie’s face back and forth under the light.

“You’re supposed to tilt your head forward,” he says after a while, possibly the first thing he’s said to Eddie so far that isn’t an insult or a reprimand.

“Isn’t it backwards?” He asks, uncertain. He feels stupidly shy now, with Tozier’s fingers grasping his chin gently. He hopes he isn’t blushing, or that if he is he can blame it on the nosebleed. 

“Nope,” Tozier finally lets go of his face and pats his cheek twice, condescending. “Definitely forwards, but feel free to swallow your own blood if you want.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, and he’s saved from having to reply by Beverly’s return. She’s holding antibacterial wipes in one hand and a packet of aspirin in the other.

“I didn’t know if you’d prefer ibuprofen or aspirin, so I went with aspirin. Also, you only have one more unscented wipe so these ones apparently smell like strawberries.” She places both in his hands and pats his shoulder. “I don’t know why you didn’t just choose track.”

“You run track?” Tozier interrupts.

“Used to,” Eddie corrects with a shrug of his shoulders.

“He was really good.” Beverly grins in response to Eddie’s death glare. “Listen, are you gonna be okay if I go finish the game? Ben looks kind of lost over there.”

Eddie smiles, even though it kind of hurts his face, and says, “Win or die.”

When he turns back to Tozier, he’s reminded of where he is and what just happened. He laughs awkwardly and drops the aspirin into his lap, bringing a hand up to play with his hair. It’s a nervous habit that he hasn’t been able to kick since childhood, and it’s bad enough that he does it at all, let alone in front of the new gym coach that thinks he’s a slacker. Eddie can’t believe how excited he was to start a new year, and how quickly it all went downhill. 

“Christ, do you have some sort of habit I should know about? Got anything stronger than aspirin in there?” Without being promoted, he takes the packet from Eddie’s lap and pops out a pill, reaching behind himself to grab a water bottle. Eddie isn’t particularly happy about sharing spit with Mr Tozier, but he takes both when they’re offered to him.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, opting not to respond to the guy’s other question. It was probably a joke, although with him there doesn’t seem to be any way to tell for sure. 

“No problem, short stack.” Tozier doesn’t make any move to get up again, and Eddie sits next to him, feeling more and more uncomfortable in the silence as each moment passes.

“I wasn’t that good at track, just so you know.” Eddie blurts out, not sure why he’s saying this at all. “I mean, I did it for a while but like, I was never _amazing.”_

Tozier frowns. “You don’t have to be amazing. Just have to give it a go, and all that shit.” There's another lengthy pause. Eddie wishes he were anywhere else.

“My mom’s gonna kill me,” he says eventually, sighing. He doesn’t really want Tozier’s opinion on this– he just doesn’t want to feel so awkward sitting next to him.

“Why?” Tozier says. “It’s just a bruise. If she comes in here complaining that basketball isn’t safe…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but Eddie can guess where that was going.

He doesn’t reply in the end. There’s no way he can explain his mother’s issues without making her sound crazy, and he doesn’t want another teacher on his case about his psychotic mother. Eddie doesn’t try to go back to the game and, thankfully, Tozier doesn’t make him. After a while, he drifts away to go upset some other students and Eddie spends the rest of the hour alternating between watching Bev and Ben, and watching Tozier. There’s something about him that’s just… strange. Eddie doesn’t _want_ to be interested in him, but he finds his gaze slipping over to whatever part of the hall he’s in, and he can’t seem to help it.

By the time the bell rings for the end of class, Eddie is so fucking ready to leave.

***

Eddie is relieved that his lunch period once again matches up with Bev and Ben’s. The last thing he wants is to sit in the cafeteria alone, eating his homemade marmite sandwiches with the crusts cut off and trying to avoid bullies at all costs. That would not be the epic start to senior year that he envisaged.

As it is, Eddie is able to sit with Ben and Bev in the corner of the room, chatting quietly amongst themselves. He managed to get hold of an ice pack from the nurse’s office earlier in the day in the hopes that his bruise would go down before his mom could see it, but now it’s just damp and warm against his face.

“Honestly, Eddie, it looks fine.” Ben nods encouragingly at him before biting into a carrot. Eddie drops his head into his hands.

“I can’t believe he made me participate. I haven’t participated in _four years.”_ Eddie bemoans, even though he’s more upset at whoever threw the ball than Coach Tozier. “Like, I get that he wants to make an impression as a hard ass new teacher or whatever, but why couldn’t he just have…” He doesn’t even know how to finish that. 

“Eddie,” Beverly says, exasperated. “He was just doing what anyone would have done. He probably thought you were just trying to get out of class.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs, and it’s true, he does. He knows he can’t really blame Tozier for his shitty mood. Still, it feels nice to have a scapegoat. 

“Is this about your mom?” Ben asks.

“No! She’s… she’s been okay recently. After the whole placebo thing came out, I think she’s pretty much letting me do my own thing so that I can’t hold a grudge against her or whatever.”

“You _can_ hold a grudge against her– you know that, don’t you?” Ben says. “What she did was, like, astronomically fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods miserably and rests his chin on his palm. He knows what she did was fucked up, and he still feels so angry, so indignant, every time he thinks about it. But there’s just… nothing he can do. It’s not like he can move out or live on his own. The best outcome is the one where he uses her guilt to get away with stuff he wouldn’t be able to get away with before.

Still, there’s no way she’d just accept him taking gym class again, even with the guilt.

“Jeez, you might cheer up if you go get another ice pack, huh?” Beverly suggests, trying to change the dreary subject. She eyes the one he currently has pressed to his face. “I think that one is starting to leak.”

Shit.

The nurse’s office is at the other end of the school, sadly, and by the time he gets there lunch will almost be over, so he takes his backpack and says goodbye to his friends before he leaves. The Bowers gang are still busy trying to microwave ants or whatever they do for fun, so Eddie is able to escape the cafeteria unnoticed and walk without fear of being harassed.

Eddie thinks as he walks. His first day back hasn’t been _all_ bad. He only has one homework assignment for tomorrow and, despite taking a ball to the face, gym class wasn’t all that bad. For his first time exercising in years, Eddie thinks he managed quite well. He even kind of enjoyed it– enjoyed the way it got his blood pumping, enjoyed the way he felt out of breath without needing an inhaler. He felt free for the first time in years. Shit, maybe he should be _thanking_ Tozier. No, he’d never add to the man’s ego like that.

Speaking of…

Eddie stops mid stride, pausing to listen to the two raised voices in the next hallway on. Where he’s standing, Eddie can just about peek round the corner to see Tozier and Mr Hanlon. Tozier is leaning back against the wall with his head rolled back and a sulky expression on his face, as though he’s a student being reprimanded by a teacher.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Tozier is saying, and Eddie frowns. “It wasn’t like I was distracting him. The other kid just had terrible aim.”

“Richie, this isn’t a joke.” Mr Hanlon crosses his arms over his chest. _Richie,_ Eddie thinks. _Richie Tozier._ It’s an interesting name. It suits him, somehow. 

“I never said it was!”

“I got you this job, okay? I stuck my neck out for you to get you hired here, after everything that happened. You _can’t_ fuck up again, alright?” Mr Hanlon sounds angrier than Eddie has ever heard him. He’s always perfectly calm and friendly in class.

“Jesus, Mike! It was just a bruise! It’s not like the kid broke his fucking nose on my watch.”

“You don’t know who that _kid_ is,” Mike says, and Eddie feels like he’s had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over his head. What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean? “Trust me, Rich, the last thing you want is Sonia Kaspbrak coming in here, spouting off some bullshit about how you put her precious baby in danger. That wouldn’t exactly look good for your first day, would it?”

Eddie bites his tongue so hard that he tastes copper. Is that what everyone thinks of him here? Do all the teachers get together and laugh behind Eddie’s back about how much of a freak he is, and how crazy his mom is? Spontaneous combustion sounds pretty sweet right about now.

“Fuck,” Richie groans, drawing the word out. “Thanks for getting me the job and all, but between this and putting coke up my nose, I sure know which I’d prefer.” Mike glares are him, and Richie throws his arms up. “Joking! I was joking.”

Eddie takes one stumbling step backwards, suddenly just needing to get as far away from here as possible, ice pack be damned, but the rubber sole of his shoe catches against the floor and makes the loudest squeaking sound imaginable. Both Tozier and Mr Hanlon look round sharply in time to see Eddie’s face disappearing behind the wall. 

Shit. Shit shit _shit._ What is he going to do? There’s no way he can pretend he didn’t hear what they said, but he really doesn’t want to listen to any bullshit explanations or half hearted apologies. He doesn’t think he’s mentally prepared for this conversation at all. No, the best thing he can do right now is turn and run. 

So he does. There’s a bathroom past the door behind him and he heads towards it, desperate to reach it before anyone reaches him. Footsteps echo behind him, getting closer with each passing second, but he manages to burst into the bathroom without getting accosted. He’ll hide in a cubicle if Tozier follows him, he decides, feet up on the toilet seat and everything just to really sell it.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to. Nobody follows him into the bathroom, and Eddie leans against the wall with his head spinning. Tears cloud his vision; he brushes them away angrily and bites down on a knuckle.

What the fuck do they know anyway? Tozier has been here all of one day– he can’t judge Eddie when he has no clue what he’s talking about. Eddie has just as much right to get hit in the face with a basketball as any other kid in this school, and he’s going to make sure Tozier knows it.

All the same, Eddie thinks as he stands there, crying. It would have been nice if Tozier had followed him, just to see if he was okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another lil disclaimer: Richie’s kind of mean here, at least at first. He makes some ‘edgy’ jokes which I do think is in character for him but I also wouldn’t want anyone thinking they reflect my views or anything so yeah
> 
> Anyway enjoy! <3

“It was _humiliating,”_ Eddie says, squeezing through the door next to Bev and Ben. “They were talking about me like I was a fucking problem child. I’m _not_ a problem child.”

“I was a problem child,” Beverly says.

“Not the point right now. And also, where does Mr Hanlon get off telling all the new teachers about my problems? About my crazy mom? She’s not even _that_ crazy. Isn’t that information private, anyway?”

“I’m pretty sure that was just his personal opinion,” Ben offers tentatively. “Like, I don’t think the school can write ‘crazy mom’ in your file.”

“Besides, Eddie, it seems more like he was defending you, don’t you think?” Beverly’s cheeks flush pink when Ben wraps an arm around her waist. Eddie wrinkles his nose up.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he was telling Coach to let you sit out. It’s not exactly a secret that your mom can get… upset, if your delicate porcelain body is put in any danger.” Eddie sticks his tongue out at Beverly and she laughs before continuing. “What I don’t get is why he would need to tell Mr Tozier at all. You said he was angry about it, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Eddie nods and glares at his feet, putting one in front of the other as they head towards the sports block. 

He hasn’t told Bev or Ben about the other thing Mr Hanlon had mentioned, about sticking his neck out for Tozier to get the job, _or_ what Tozier had said about taking coke. It hadn’t felt right to air all his dirty laundry like that, even though he’d had no problem gossiping about Eddie. The last thing Tozier wants, Eddie expects, is a bunch of high school students knowing all about his struggles with addiction. It’s nowhere near the same situation of course, but Eddie has had his own issues with prescription drugs, and he’d hate it if everyone found out about that. 

So he hasn’t told his friends. They can go on being confused about the whole situation - Eddie can live with that - and he also feels morally superior thanks to this. He can judge Tozier now without feeling guilty. It’s perfect.

“Well, whatever,” Bev shrugs, disentangling herself from Ben when the girls’ changing room comes into view. “Just… avoid eye contact, don’t get hit in the face with a ball and try to be nice to him. How does that sound?”

“Impossible.” Eddie sulks. Beverly rolls her eyes.

“Meet you guys in there,” she says, disappearing into the other room. Eddie groans and continues forward with Ben, wishing at least someone would take his side with this. 

He can’t get their conversation out of his head - the way Mr Hanlon spoke about Eddie’s mother, the way Tozier was so dismissive. That last one stings a bit, even now, even though Eddie has known the guy for all of one day and neither of them made a great impression. Eddie knows rationally that Tozier’s ignorance couldn't last forever. He was going to find out about Eddie’s crazy mom at some point - she attends every parents evening like clockwork - but it was nice, while it lasted, to just be Eddie.

Even if that version of Eddie was a slacker. 

“He probably won’t mention it,” Ben says, a valiant attempt to console him. “I bet he’s more embarrassed than you are. I mean, you’re not the one that got caught out gossiping. He’s the one that should feel uncomfortable, Eddie, not you.”

He’s right, of course, because he usually is, and he’s trying to be optimistic as well. Eddie loves him for that - it’s probably what Beverly first saw in him, that unbridled wish to see the best in people - but he just wants to wallow in his own discontent right now. Is that really too much to ask?

“No offence,” Eddie says glumly. “But I think I’m gonna go with Beverly’s advice.”

“Figures,” Ben says.

The locker room is almost empty when they get there– dawdling on their way means they’re a few minutes late and most people are already changed and waiting in the hall. At least it means they can get dressed without anyone making offensive comments or menacing them, but Eddie hopes Coach Tozier won’t notice them slipping in late. He already has enough of an issue with the guy without piling tardiness onto the list.

“What are we doing today?” Ben asks, pulling his sweater over his head and replacing it with the itchy gym uniform the school still insists on. Eddie has to use the one he got in freshman year because he can’t risk his mother seeing him buy a new one and find out what he’s been doing. As a result, the stupid t-shirt is tight in all the wrong places and if he even gets a little bit cold his nipples are going to show through the thin fabric. Wouldn’t _that_ just be the cherry on top of a nice big cake of humiliation.

“Um,” Eddie thinks back, trying to remember the order of rotation from yesterday. “Dodgeball, I think? If Tozier even shows up to class that is.” Ben snorts and Eddie begins to feel a little better. Maybe that’s the way to go– making derisive jokes about the guy to his friends until the shame of yesterday simply fades away.

Then he hears movement behind him, and Eddie’s plan sort of goes awry. 

“No need to worry, Kaspbrak,” Tozier says, appearing behind Eddie out of fucking nowhere. “I’m on time. Can’t say the same for you two, though. Think you can do better next time?”

He has his arms crossed and they look indecently strong like that and god, Eddie should not be paying attention to that of all things right now. He focuses back on the situation at hand and finds that he can’t bring himself to make eye contact, just like Bev said. It’s dumb, because Eddie shouldn’t be the one to feel awkward. It was Tozier that was talking about a student, loudly and in public; someone was bound to overhear. 

So why can’t Eddie stop feeling bad?

“Yes, sir,” he says, looking down, shame faced. “Sorry. We were just–”

“I don’t want an excuse,” Tozier holds up his palm to shut Eddie up - what an asshole thing to do - and it works. “It’s only the second day of the semester. Just do better from now on, ‘kay?” With that, he slinks away and the sound of him calling the class to attention can be heard from the locker room. Eddie and Ben exchange a wary glance.

“Okay,” Ben says slowly. “That wasn’t _too_ bad?”

 _“Wasn’t too bad?”_ Eddie says despairingly. “He may as well have just sent us to the principal's office.”

 _“That’s_ the worst thing you can think of?” Ben raises his eyebrows. Eddie glares.

“Oh, look at you, tough guy,” he says. “You date one rebel and all of a sudden detention doesn’t scare you.”

“Detention never scared me.” Ben shrugs. “You just have a kink for authority approval. Besides, don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion just a little?”

“I’ll be sure to show loads of sympathy when the guy shit-talks _your_ mom.” Eddie huffs. Ben laughs as they walk, side by side, towards the hall. 

Beverly is already on the court waiting for them, and she beckons them over hurriedly. The game has started and there are a few players sitting out on the bench - Eddie debates joining them without even giving it a go, but the hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end and he knows Tozier is watching him. He’s probably hoping Eddie takes another ball to the face, just so he and Mr Hanlon can gossip some more. Asshole.

“Eddie, come on!” Beverly chucks him a ball that he almost drops. “If we lose this because of you, you’re buying me lunch.”

“That doesn’t seem fair–” Eddie tries to reason, but he’s interrupted by someone bumping into his shoulder. When he looks back, Beverly has already moved on, collecting as many dumb dodgeballs as she can. She’s fiercely competitive. Bev makes a big deal out of Eddie running track but she’s collected trophies for almost every other sport.

It’s hard to stay focused when it constantly feels like he’s being watched. Tozier hangs around at the side of the court, occasionally shouting out encouragement or advice to other students, but whenever Eddie glances over, he always seems to be facing this way. It’s flattering on the one hand, but embarrassing and scary on the other.

“Eddie!” Eddie looks over sharply to where Beverly is standing, rubbing the red mark on her arm and scowling. “Get me back in. If I have to spend the rest of this game on the bench I’m gonna cry.”

Looking round, Eddie realises that he and Ben are somehow the only people left in the game, playing against five or six people on the other team. _Shit,_ Eddie thinks. This is way too much responsibility for him. He’s more of a background player. _Ben_ is good. He has excellent aim and he can throw a ball _hard,_ but Eddie prefers to hide in the shadows so he doesn’t get hit. That instinct is especially prevalent since yesterday. 

Eddie sees the ball flying towards Ben like it’s in slow motion, and really it shouldn’t be so intense but with Tozier watching, it feels important that he wins this match. Obviously he just doesn’t want the coach to think he’s a slacker. It’s not like he personally wants to impress the guy or anything, and there’s nothing wrong with some competitive spirit here and there.

Ben dodges at the last minute - Eddie heaves a sigh of relief and tries to pretend he isn’t bothered - and Beverly claps. Eddie didn’t realise that Tozier had gotten so close, so he jumps when he hears the guy grumbling behind him. 

“Jesus, is that the best you can do?” He yells at the other team. “How did you miss _that_ target?”

It seems to Eddie, despite his bias in the situation, that the hall falls quiet. Maybe he’s being a little dramatic but Tozier’s comment definitely shocks the people in the match, and Beverly stands up, ready to fight. Ben’s face flushes a mortified red and he looks down at his feet. Eddie wants to yell, wants to scream at Tozier for saying something so cruel and insensitive, but he’s never been able to stand up to teachers, and even though Tozier is the worst kind, he still demands Eddie’s respect. 

Tozier looks around, frowning at the sudden silence. Eddie thinks for a moment with hopeful naivety that he’s about to apologise, but he doesn’t. Instead, he claps his hands and says, “Get back to the game.”

Other people start to move again, but Eddie waits to see how Ben will react. He’s shuffling his feet, not meeting anyone’s gaze, and Eddie can’t help but feel the second hand embarrassment for him.

“Ben,” Beverly says from the sidelines, and that spurs him into action. He drops the ball that he’s been holding and heads for the door, keeping his head down. Beverly follows close behind him, and Eddie manages to take a step in that direction before Tozier blocks his path.

“You go after them and I’m gonna have to tell the principal you skipped class,” he says.

“Are you kidding?”

“Or you could give me five laps and we can forget about the whole thing?”

Eddie takes a moment to think. Then he narrows his eyes at Tozier and says, “Are you blackmailing me? Is this blackmail? I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

“It’s not blackmail,” Tozier cocks his hip and gives Eddie a smug smile. He’s totally on a power trip, and Eddie can’t help but resent him for it. “I’m your gym coach. I’m getting you to exercise. That’s my job, Kaspbrak. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be good at track. Show me that talent, hmm?”

“I’m honestly not that good! Beverly just said that.” He may be throwing Bev under the bus, but she was the one that got Tozier stuck on the whole running thing in the first place, and Eddie needs a scapegoat. 

“Why would she lie about that?” He tilts his head, condescending. Eddie can’t think of an appropriate answer, and he doesn’t think Tozier deserves one anyway. Tozier continues. “What’s it gonna be then, Eddie?”

Eddie leans down to pick up a ball from the floor as it slowly rolls towards his feet. “Can’t I just… play dodgeball?” He asks, hopeful.

Tozier snatches the ball away. “Start running,” He says.

***

It’s difficult for Eddie and Bev to spend time together outside of school. He has a mother that would never let a girl stay over, and she has a father that would never let a boy stay over. Whenever one of them visits the other, it has to be when they’re home alone, and whenever Mr Marsh isn’t home, Beverly tends to invite Ben over.

Every so often, though, Sonia will go to a book club meeting or to catch up on the neighbourhood gossip with a friend from church, and Eddie can sneak Beverly in for a few hours. It normally feels exciting - he gets a rush of adrenaline from going against his mother’s wishes - but now the atmosphere between them is soured, sad.

“Was he really upset?” Eddie asks. He takes a seat on his bed and scoots over when Beverly lies down next to him.

“He’s heard worse.” Bev sighs. “I think he was mostly shocked. We all were.”

As much as Eddie wants to say ‘I told you so’, he can’t. Even he didn’t expect Tozier to be so blatantly rude to a student, and especially not in front of the whole class. He just hums, a noncommittal answer.

“Hey,” Beverly says suddenly. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about Tozier. He’s a major asshole.”

“A major one,” Eddie agrees. “I think he has it out for me now, after yesterday. He blackmailed me into running laps. _Five laps,_ Bev. I hate him.”

“You’ve never hated anybody in your life, Eddie.” Beverly smiles. “Don’t let one jackass gym coach change that.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Eddie continues. Maybe he’s a little obsessed with this matter. “I’m not gonna be joining the track team. My mom would go crazy. She probably wouldn’t even let me go to _school_ if she found out.”

Beverly drops her chin into her hands and watches Eddie with dangerous curiosity. “Is that the only reason you don’t wanna join?” She asks.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with the other idiots on the team already? Or maybe the fact that you haven’t practised in years?”

“Nope,” Eddie looks away, even though he already knows Beverly can see right through him. He’s barely even convincing when he’s telling the truth. He has no chance now.

“Whatever, listen, that doesn’t matter.” Eddie waves her questions away with a dismissive gesture and turns to face her more fully. “Tell me about your problems instead. If I have to wallow, you have to wallow with me.”

Beverly groans. “Ugh. I’m failing art, if you must know.”

“No one fails art,” Eddie says.

“I _know._ That’s the _point._ Apparently my pieces aren’t expressive enough, and my write-ups are full of bullshit.”

“Are they?”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “Everyone’s write-ups are bullshit, Eddie. It’s supposed to be a class, not a therapy session. What do they want me to do? Spill all my daddy issues onto a page and send that off to be graded? Fuck no.”

“It might be useful, though,” Eddie starts tentatively. This is something they’ve spoken about before, many times and in detail, but Beverly still gets uncomfortable sometimes if Eddie or Ben suggest any sort of counselling. “I mean… it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to spill _some_ daddy issues, somewhere. Right? Maybe if you talk to someone about it you’d be able to…”

“To what?” Beverly prompts, defensive, when Eddie doesn’t finish.

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “To heal? God, that sounds cringy.”

“It does,” Beverly agrees. “But thanks all the same. It’s just… easier not to, okay? I’m here until I graduate and after that I’m never coming back. At least, not for him.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but his sadness must be written on his face because Beverly reaches over and takes his hand in hers. This is the kind of thing they could never do if either of their parents were around.

“Hey,” Beverly says. “Tell you what. I’ll talk about my daddy issues when you talk about your mommy issues. How about that?”

Eddie turns away. “Point taken,” he says.

They lapse into silence for a while. Beverly puts some music on in the background and Eddie works on some homework whilst Beverly sketches, occasionally looking to study Eddie’s profile. Eddie’s mom will be back at around six so they have just over an hour together before Beverly will have to slink away. 

“Hey,” Bev says after a moment, setting her sketchbook aside and resting the end of her pencil against her bottom lip. “Do you remember when you broke your arm?”

“Technically, Henry Bowers broke my arm.” Eddie says. “But yeah, I remember.”

“And it didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would, but your mom made a massive deal out of it? And she tried to stop us from seeing each other but you got her to back down?”

“Where are you going with this, Bev?” Eddie asks with a sinking feeling. 

Beverly grins. “Tozier’s a jerk, but I still think you should join the team.” She rips out the page she was working on and hands it to Eddie. He sets it down on his desk and reminds himself to hide it before his mother gets back. 

“Maybe,” Eddie relents. 

Despite everything, he thinks that she might be right. 


	3. Chapter 3

Eddie is buying groceries when he next sees Tozier. 

He managed to get through the whole week without having to deal with the stress of gym class, so really, Eddie thinks, it’s the universe is just balancing itself out. Eddie can’t have too many good things all at once, and seeing Tozier on the phone as he decides between juice flavours is the harsh kick back to reality that he needs.

Unfortunately, he also needs to buy orange juice, and he can’t do that without Tozier seeing him. He shifts his basket to his other hand and shuffles out of his hiding place in the cereal aisle.

Eddie has been thinking a lot, lately. Beverly is usually right about these things and even Ben tried to convince him. Eddie has spent so much time on the sidelines of his life, watching from the outside as everybody else makes his decisions for him, and he’s bottled up all the resentment and all the sadness that came with that. Running was something that took his mind off that helplessness, something that could set him free, and the breathless pain in his chest every time he pushed himself too far reminded him that this was his body, his world to live in. Tozier, even though he is a massive jerk who blackmails his students, is trying to give Eddie that feeling back.

Even though he probably has no idea, he’s trying to set Eddie free.

So Eddie takes a deep breath and steps forward, prepared to yank the juice carton out of Tozier’s hands if he has to– and he immediately crashes into someone else rounding the corner. Eddie loses hold of his basket and it tips, the contents spilling out over the floor and rolling away in all different directions. Shit. He really should have seen that coming. 

Tozier turns around at the sudden noise and Eddie looks away before their eyes can meet, like if he can avoid Tozier’s gaze for long enough then he can go unseen. He’s changed his mind– Eddie doesn’t want to be brave anymore. He wants to slink away to the confectionary aisle and calm down for a minute.

He can’t do that, of course. As he crouches down to gather some of his fallen items, a pair of shoes creeps into his sight and then Tozier is kneeling down beside him.

“Eddie?” He asks, even as he’s helping collect Eddie’s groceries and put them back into the basket. “Are you… alright?”

“Yep,” Eddie says, voice tight, lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t look up when Tozier offers him a rescued can of soup, just snatches it back and stands up on shaky legs. 

“Are you sure?” Tozier continues, not letting up. “Because I think your spaghetti just slid under that shelf?”

Eddie follows Tozier’s finger to where, sure enough, a packet of spaghetti lays overturned on the floor. Fuck it. Eddie is absolutely not getting down on his knees and crawling around on the ground in front of his jackass gym coach, so they’ll just have to go without it this week. His mom will get over it… eventually.

“Nope,” Eddie shakes his head. “That’s not mine.”

“It definitely came from your basket.”

“I’m–” Eddie searches desperately for something to say to get him out of this mess. After a moment’s blind panic, he blurts out, “I’m allergic to spaghetti.”

“You’re allergic to spaghetti?” Tozier raises an eyebrow doubtfully. “Is that what your mom told you?”

Eddie’s face goes slack. His fingers curl so right around the handle of his shopping basket that his knuckles turn white, and a muscle tics in his jaw from clenching it so hard.  _ Fuck _ this guy. Eddie thought maybe Tozier being nice meant that he’d turned over a new leaf or whatever but obviously he’s still the same old asshole.

Eddie doesn’t bother saying anything as he turns on his heel and stalks away in the opposite direction. Tozier doesn’t deserve a goodbye. He doesn’t even make it halfway down the aisle before he hears footsteps behind him, and Tozier catches up.

“Eddie,  _ Eddie,”  _ he says, sounding almost frantic. “I’m sorry– I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Eddie blinks, shocked. Is he about to have a mental breakdown in a grocery store? Eddie isn’t sure he wants to stick around for that…

“Um, what?” He asks.

“I’m sorry,” Tozier says again. “About what you heard on Monday, and class after that. It was totally unprofessional and wrong.”  _ That  _ sounds like he’s just reading from a script, but when he continues Eddie can hear the genuineness in his words. ”Mike– I mean, uh, Mr Hanlon– he didn’t tell me all that to be a dick or anything. He just heard that you got hurt and he was worried. He told me about your mom because he didn’t want me to fuck up and you to suffer because of it. What you heard… that’s what was going on. He was just looking out for you. And I– I was embarrassed, because you heard what I said and I hated that.”

“What you said about– um, about the drugs?” Eddie feels stupidly shy again, standing in front of Tozier. The man’s heartfelt apology has rendered him speechless.

Tozier winces. “Yeah, the drugs. I was a jerk for stupid reasons and I’m really sorry. I don’t know anything about your mom and your life and I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry. Will you tell Ben that, as well? That I’m sorry?”

“I think you should tell him yourself.” Eddie says slowly. He’s still trying to process everything that just happened. His brain is a little slow right now. 

“No, shit, you’re right.” Tozier sighs.

“Uh, sir,” Eddie starts, but Tozier cuts him off.

“Oh god, call me Richie while we’re out of school, please,” he says with a wrinkled nose. It  _ isn’t  _ cute, Eddie tells himself. Just because the guy apologised doesn’t make him cute,  _ or  _ a good person. Still…

“Richie.” Eddie nods. “Isn’t that kind of unprofessional?”

“Yeah, but do it anyway,” Richie says. That sounds about right. 

“Just so you know, I wouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t tell anyone.” Eddie shuffles his feet and looks down at the floor, embarrassed even though he’s done nothing wrong. 

“What?”

“About the drugs. About what you said. I didn’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t have said anything. That’s your business and it’s in the past and it’s nothing to do with me, okay?”

Richie watches him for a moment, and Eddie holds his breath. It feels as though he’s being inspected, like Richie is poking around inside his head, reading his mind. It makes him feel strangely self conscious, and to divert the attention away from himself he takes a brief, cursory glance at Richie’s shopping basket. Interestingly, it’s filled with silverware and home furnishings. Eddie frowns.

“Did you just move here or something?” He asks, before he can realise how forward that is. Richie doesn’t give him a chance to apologise.

“Yeah,” he says. “From New York.”

“You moved from  _ New York  _ to  _ Derry?”  _ Eddie says disbelievingly. Why would anyone leave the modernity of New York to come and live and work in this Maine shithole?

Richie laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “Don’t sound so surprised. New York looks nice from the outside, but it’s a total cesspool. It’s practically impossible to keep your nose clean. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll, kid.”

“Sounds cool,” Eddie shrugs. He’s lived in Derry his whole life, where the most exciting thing to happen is the hideous Paul Bunyan statue being refurbished once every few years. He thinks he can be excused for craving a little action, a little…  _ sex drugs rock’n’roll. _

“Nah,” is all Richie says, laughing to himself a little like he knows something Eddie doesn’t. He probably knows a lot Eddie doesn’t. 

“I wanna go to New York,” Eddie admits. “For college. NYU, you know?”

Really, he has no idea why he’s telling Richie any of this. He hasn’t even talked about this with his mother, and his dumb gym coach is the last person he should be discussing this with. There’s just something so magnetic about Richie when he’s being friendly like this, when he’s being nice. Maybe Eddie just has a problem with oversharing - he wouldn’t be surprised - but there’s something about Richie that makes him want to spill, for better or worse. 

“Ah, shit,” Richie says. They’re idling slowly around the store together. Occasionally one of them will reach over to pick something up off the shelf, but other than that they walk companionably side by side. It’s strange. Strangely nice. 

“Listen,” Richie continues. “Don’t listen to me. I’m bound to find the shitty side of any place I end up. NYU is a great school. You’ll probably have a blast. And hey, with your grades you shouldn’t have a problem getting in.”

“With my grades?” Eddie asks, confused. Richie doesn’t look up but Eddie sees his cheeks flush pink with embarrassment.

“Okay,” he says. “So maybe I had a look at your record. It was totally professional though– you did get a nosebleed in my first lesson with you. I was just checking up, making sure I wouldn’t get fired and all.”

“Totally professional,” Eddie repeats, smiling. Richie has the kind of personality, Eddie thinks, that makes him either very funny or very serious, depending on whether you like him or not.

Shit, Eddie may be starting to like him.

“Edward Kaspbrak,” Richie says, grinning. “Straight A student as far back as freshman year. Track team runner for a few months before an unfortunate incident involving a quote, ‘devastating injury’.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He’s not sure when he made the decision to trust Richie - he doesn’t even know if he  _ does  _ trust Richie - but he doesn’t mock his mother’s neurosis in front of just anyone. The combination of the bright lights of the store and the screaming of children a few aisles over is giving Eddie a headache, but he doesn’t want to leave just yet. He’s almost… having fun. With  _ Richie.  _

“Yeah, well,” Eddie says. “My mom has a unique view on what constitutes ‘devastating’. It was a graze.”

“Unique,” Richie repeats, nodding like he’s thinking it through to himself. “I see.” He’s quiet for a while. Eddie has pretty much everything he came in for - minus the spaghetti, which he’ll just have to live without - so they’ll have to part ways soon. Eddie considers offering to help, because Richie must be having a stressful time moving to a strange town and having to set up a home and a life here all on his own, but eventually he decides against it. That might be too much social interaction with a teacher for one day, even for Eddie.

And then another thought occurs to him– he doesn’t know if Richie  _ is  _ alone. For all Eddie knows, he could have a wife and kids waiting for him at home. Eddie admits that it seems unlikely, based on Richie’s personality alone, and there’s no ring on his finger, but that doesn’t mean anything. 

For some reason, this embarrasses Eddie more than anything else that’s happened so far. He knows rationally that he hasn’t done anything to be ashamed of, but he can’t meet Richie’s eye when they get to the tills. It’s as though Eddie feels guilty for spending time with Richie when the guy could have a whole family in a different part of life, completely separate from Eddie.

“It’s a shame, is all,” Richie says. 

“What?”

“If your ‘devastating injury’ stopped you from doing what you wanna do.”

When Eddie doesn’t reply after a few awkward seconds of silence, Richie sighs and turns to leave. In the hectic atmosphere of the store, Eddie can identify Richie’s footsteps walking away. He really hates himself, because he can’t stand the thought of Richie being angry with him.

“Richie!” He says, spinning around and wincing when his basket knocks against his leg. He probably looks ridiculous, but he’ll worry about that later. 

Richie turns back, an expectant look on his face. Eddie blanches.

“You will…” he starts, stops, tries again. “You will apologise, won't you? To Ben?”

Richie smiles, nods. “Yeah, Eds,” he says. “I promise.”

***

As she usually is, Sonia Kaspbrak is reclining on the sofa when Eddie gets home. The TV is on at a low, buzzing volume and the flashing images are reflected in her glasses. She looks up when the door clicks shut and beckons him forward with a smile.

“Eddie bear,” she says. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, mom.” Eddie sets the bags down against the doorway and shuffles over to kiss her on the cheek. “I ran into a friend at the store. We got talking.”

“It wasn’t that Beverly Marsh girl, was it?” Disapproval colours her voice. “You know what I think about her, Eddie. You really shouldn’t be spending time with people like that.”

“It wasn’t Beverly, mom.” Eddie swallows down the instinctual feelings of anger and defensiveness that claw their way up his throat. “It was just a guy from school. You don’t know him.”

“I’m glad you have boy friends, Eddie. You know what people say about boys that only spend time with girls.”

“I know, mom.” Eddie pats her shoulder. He knows, and he doesn’t want her to say it out loud. “I have to put the groceries away.”

“You’ll come back afterwards, won’t you Eddie? You’ll come and watch TV with your mommy?”

“Of course, mom.” Eddie has homework he needs to be doing and he’d really rather take a nap than watch Bargain Hunters or whatever else his mom puts on, but he can’t say no to her when she asks like that. She sounds so lonely and - as guilty as Eddie feels to think it - pathetic. He loves her.

He picks up the bags again and struggles to carry them all without dropping anything. Before he rounds the corner into the hallway, he hesitates and half turns to look back at his mother. He thinks about what Beverly and Ben said, what Richie said, what he himself has been thinking for the past week. What his mom doesn’t know can’t hurt her…

“Hey, mommy?” He says, leaning against the doorframe. “I think I’m gonna stay after school on Wednesdays for some extra tutoring from now on, if that’s okay? It just means I’ll get home at five instead.”

The school’s track team trains on Wednesdays after school. Eddie has no idea whether Richie is leading the session or not, but he guesses he’ll find out.

“You won’t be walking home in the dark, will you Eddie?” Sonia asks, turning away from the TV to give Eddie a concerned frown. The creases around her mouth seem to deepen. “You know I don’t like you walking alone in the dark. There are some terrible people out there, sweetie.”

“If it gets too dark I’ll get a lift,” Eddie tells her, and remembers what Richie said earlier on in the supermarket. “I promise.”

Sonia agrees, like Eddie knew she would, because she likes it when Eddie does anything to do with school. She wants to brag about him around town and tell everyone that she has the smartest son in Derry. If she knew what he was really doing she’d go crazy, and she’d probably lock him up in his room until the end of the school year.

That just means Eddie has to make sure she never finds out.

‘ _Something really weird just happened…’_ Eddie texts Beverly as soon as he’s safely hidden away in the kitchen, arranging food neatly in the cupboards. He gets a reply almost immediately.

_ ‘What??’ _

Eddie hesitates. He almost doesn’t want Beverly to know about his conversation with Richie, almost wants it to be something private and personal that they alone shared, but at the same time it feels like he’s bursting at the seams with the need to tell someone. 

_ ‘I don’t think Tozier is as bad as we thought.’  _ He types in the end, and puts his phone away. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get less and less sure how to spell Kaspbrak every time I write it. Honestly I look it up like 3 times per chapter this is a cry for help

The Bowers gang have always had a problem with Eddie, dating all the way back to second grade. Henry and Patrick had been held back and so where Eddie was small and young and excited to make friends, they were bigger and stronger and meaner. They had a problem with Eddie because he looked small and frail. They had a problem with Ben because he was nerdy and overweight. They had a problem with Beverly because she wouldn’t back down when they bullied her. The only two constants in Eddie’s school life so far have been Bev and Ben, and the Bowers Gang.

He loves one, and hates the other.

Ben and Eddie are changing for gym when Henry saunters over, flanked by Patrick and Vic. It always means trouble when they walk like that - when they approach at all, really, but especially when they smirk and glance over their shoulders to make sure everybody’s watching. 

“It was totally weird,” Ben is saying. “He caught me after class and was like, ‘I’m sorry about before’ and I was like, ‘no worries it’s fine’ and then he left. Doesn’t that sound weird to you?”

“No kidding?” Eddie hasn’t told either of his friends about seeing Richie in the supermarket. He wouldn’t know how to explain it, how to tell them about the conversation in a way that doesn’t make it seem bizarre. He smiles whenever he thinks about it, and that’s starting to worry him.

Ben frowns, looking over at Eddie’s unenthusiastic response. He might be about to say something, to ask something, when Henry interrupts with a mocking laugh.

“You two still come to this class? Why’d you even bother anymore?” He looks them up and down with a sneer. 

Eddie sets his jaw and stays silent. He doesn’t want to pick a fight with Henry Bowers, even if everybody else is here watching. They wouldn’t intervene and he knows it. The best he can do here is just divert attention and avoid getting punched in the face, if at all possible.

Maybe he should start wearing a helmet to school. That’s probably what his mom would say.

“What do you want, Henry?” Eddie mumbles, voice low, eyes downcast. 

“Want?” Henry frowns dramatically. “I don’t want anything, Kaspbrak. I thought we were just having a friendly conversation.” Reaching out slowly, like he’s _trying_ to increase the tension, Henry drops his hand onto Eddie’s shoulder and digs his fingers in until Eddie has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. Henry shoves him back, just a little bit, just enough to have him crashing into the set of lockers behind him and winding as his head knocks against the metal. 

“Don’t you wanna be friends, Eddie?”

Over Henry’s shoulder, Patrick is grinning. He looks so fucking creepy like that, and Eddie has a short flash of relief that it’s Henry touching him, not Hockstetter. Who knows what that freak would do?

Behind Eddie, Ben is shuffling from foot to foot. Eddie knows he wants to get involved, wants to help, but doing so would only draw attention to himself and Ben really doesn’t need any extra attention from these guys. Out of them all, he’s had it worse throughout high school. Eddie doesn’t begrudge him for not getting involved, even when he resents the rest of his class for it. It’s things like this that make him feel guilty, make him feel, sometimes, like he deserves it.

And then another voice cuts through the silence like a blade and Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief.

“Jesus, in my day they just punched ‘em and let that be it.” Richie appears from nowhere, pushing through the crowd and leaning against the wall next to Eddie. Henry releases his grip and takes a few shocked steps backwards, hands clenching. 

“We were just–” 

“Oh, save it for your dad, Bowers.” Richie rolls his eyes. Henry’s face goes pale and he swallows nervously, eyes flitting between Eddie and Richie. Vic and Patrick stay silent behind him, watching the scene play out. 

“Christ, this is depressing.” Richie turns in a slow circle and, when he turns their way, everybody bursts back into action like a play button has been hit. “Bowers, I want you out there doing laps by the time I come back. You two as well, I’ll decide when you can stop. Unless you’d rather I set up a meeting with your father, Henry?”

Henry is quiet for a moment and Eddie holds his breath, a little awed at the whole situation. He’s never seen a teacher stand up to the Bowers gang like this before. For a moment, he thinks Henry might jump on Richie and he entertains the image of Richie fighting, muscles standing out, sweaty hair pushed out of his face. Jesus, why is _that_ hot?

And then, in a stilted, angry voice, Henry says, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Richie nods. “Everybody get out of here. Go on, go!” People start filtering out of the locker room one by one, a few lingering to whisper but most just taking the opportunity to escape. Ben slips away and Eddie tries to follow him, but Richie’s finger hooked in the collar of his shirt brings him back. “Not you, short stack,” he says. “You stay here. We’re gonna talk.”

“Talk about what?” The room is mostly empty now, so Eddie feels more comfortable speaking.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What the fuck was what?”

“Don’t get cute with me,” Richie says, and Eddie knows that’s not what it sounded like. He _knows_ Richie didn’t just call him cute.

And yet…

“I’m not,” Eddie says defensively. “I just don’t know what you mean. Isn’t it obvious what that was?”

“Does that happen often?” Richie sounds genuinely concerned, and it would be funny if it wasn’t so heartwarming. 

“Well, sure.” Eddie shrugs. “But it’s not like it’s a big deal. Honest.”

“Forgive me, but I’m not inclined to trust your judgement.”

Eddie scowls. “You really care that they push us around and call us a few mean names?”

“Of course. The only person that’s allowed to call you names is me, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“That’s not a thing,” Eddie says, but his own face is betraying him, lips curling up into a smile before he can stop it. “Please, don’t make that a thing.”

“Oh, too late, Spaghetti-o. You already made this a thing.”

Eddie leans back against the wall behind him next to Richie and crosses his arms, mirroring Richie’s pose. He feels happy, safe, despite the close call with Bowers. How is it possible that his asshole gym teacher gives him a dumb nickname and he’s a blushing idiot tripping over his words? He’s never been like this before, and he doesn’t know how to act.

“Richie?” He says in a small voice.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for that. Thanks for doing something about it, I guess.” It’s more effort than most of Eddie’s other teachers make, and even if Richie was just doing it to be an asshole to Bowers, it still means something. Eddie just isn’t sure what yet.

“No problem,” Richie says. He pushes away from the wall and heads for the gym hall. Eddie can’t help but notice the way his hair curls at the ends, the way it bounces when he moves.

Lately, Eddie has been noticing these things more than ever. The way guys look, the way they move. He’s been noticing Richie in particular - and he doesn’t want to say he’s been stalking the guy, but if he happened to catch sight of him across campus or in the cafeteria every now and then who could blame him for looking? Eddie’s known he’s gay for as long as he can remember, but he’s never thought to act on it. At least, not before college. Derry is not known for its tolerance and there aren’t that many out and proud gay guys willing to risk their safety for a relationship. Especially not one with Eddie Kaspbrak. 

But there’s something about Richie… something different, something that Eddie has never experienced before. He finds himself wanting to spend more time with him - which is rare in itself - and whenever he sees Richie laughing or smiling with someone else, whether it’s another student or a member of staff, a coil of jealousy tightens in his stomach. Maybe he’s losing his mind. He’d rather it be that than a crush.

“Eddie?” Richie prompts, eyebrows raised expectantly. He’s turned back to face Eddie and the attention almost makes Eddie shrink away. “Are you coming? Don’t make me play favourites.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, cheeks flushed pink. “I just… I wanted to ask you something.”

Richie cocks his hip. “What’s up?”

Eddie only hesitates a moment. He’s quite proud of himself for that. “I wanna join track. I was thinking about what you said and you’re right. I can run, and it would help with my college application if I’m on the team, y’know?”

Richie grins. When he speaks, he sounds almost proud. Eddie loves it. 

“Well, Kaspbrak,” he says. “I never thought I’d see the day. Say it one more time– who was right?”

“Oh my god, shut _up,”_ Eddie says, giggling. “Don’t make me change my mind. You know I’ll do it.”

“Alright, alright!” Richie holds his hands up as though in surrender. “Practice is on Wednesday after school. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know. I was just thinking… I haven’t trained in years. I’m probably gonna be really rusty, you know? The other people on the team: we’re not exactly friends. I wouldn’t want them to think I wasn’t good enough. I was hoping– well. I was hoping I might be able to do some extra training. With you, I mean. Would that be okay?”

“Oh,” Richie blinks, surprised. “You…”

Eddie has to look away. He’s embarrassed and jittery, leg bouncing with anticipation. He doesn’t think Richie will turn him down, but he can’t be sure… and he doesn’t know how he would react if Richie told him no. He doesn’t deal well with rejection.

“Well, yeah, sure.” Eddie looks up, the knot in his chest loosening. Richie is smiling. “Anything for the team, of course. I take my job very seriously.”

“I’m sure you do,” Eddie says, a smile tugging at his lips. “But hey, thank you. I really appreciate it. Seriously.”

Richie nods. “I know,” he says, and turns to leave.

***

Eddie is fucking exhausted. He forgot how much he hates running.

He doesn’t hate it, of course. He’s reluctantly happy that he’s doing this again, putting the effort in, making his own decision. He’ll even begrudgingly admit that he’s happy to be defying his mother and her suffocating rules, but fuck if he doesn’t wish he brought a drink with him. It isn’t even that hot and he’s still sweating, t-shirt soaked through and hair sticking to his forehead. His shorts are starting to chafe as well, and with Richie paying so much attention to him he has to just grin and bear it.

It’s weird as well, having Richie pay him so much attention. It shouldn’t be, because the first time they ever met Richie was being an asshole and paying him more attention than Eddie would have liked, but it’s different now. Now that they’ve called a truce and Richie is actually trying to help, Eddie finds the attention almost overwhelming. He has the urge to hide his face behind his hands every time Richie looks at him a beat too long.

“Jesus,” Richie says suddenly, appearing at Eddie’s side as Eddie tries to catch his breath, doubled over and panting. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were rusty.” He claps Eddie’s back in commiseration.

“Fuck you,” Eddie replies breathlessly, in between gulps of air. He’s waiting for the reprimand, but it never comes. Instead, Richie starts to laugh.

“That wasn’t necessarily criticism,” he says, still smirking. “I’m sure the middle school team would be honoured to have you join.”

“You’re literally such an asshole.” Eddie snatches his water bottle out of Richie’s hands and downs half of it in two gulps. He’s tempted to pour the rest onto his face just to cool down but Richie would probably take the piss out of him for that too, so he won’t risk it.

“Hey, you came to me for help. I’m helping.”

“This is how you help people?”

“It sure is.” Richie drops a hand onto Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes reassuringly, like he’s trying to comfort Eddie. He doesn’t move his hand and Eddie is hyper aware of the warmth of Richie’s fingers through his thin t-shirt, the brush of his thumb over the bare skin at the nape of Eddie’s neck. Goosebumps pop up on his skin before he can shake off the weird feeling, and Richie takes his hand away like he hasn’t noticed.

He had to have noticed the way Eddie shivered at the touch. 

“You up for another lap?” He asks, turning away. His whole demeanour has changed: now when he speaks, it’s as though he’s addressing a crowd. It reminds Eddie of the first time he heard Richie talking, snapping at his whole senior class. It wouldn’t be so unnerving if it wasn’t just Richie and Eddie, alone on the field after school, messing around. Eddie had thought they were getting on.

“Jesus, another lap? Are you even human?”

“I’m not the one trying out for the team.” Richie shrugs.

“There are _tryouts?_ You mean I can’t just join the team?”

“We’re competing to win, Kaspbrak. You might be happy with a participation trophy but I’m not.”

Eddie presses his lips into a thin line and turns away, disappointed. Somewhere above him there’s a faint rumbling sound and he feels the first few drops of rain drip down the back of his neck. Being around Richie makes his head spin– one second he’s funny and playful, the next he’s telling Eddie he sucks.

Okay, Eddie can admit that maybe that’s a slight exaggeration but the point still stands. Richie is so fucking confusing. 

“It’s starting to rain,” he says eventually.

“It won’t kill you.”

“I might throw up if I don’t take a break.”

Richie shrugs again. He’s already making his way off the running track when he says, “Suit yourself. Next week you better be ready to work harder. You won’t make the team on good intentions, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie has to bite back the urge to tell him to go fuck himself.

The showers in the locker room are disgusting, and Eddie refuses to use them. Even now, when there’s no one else around, he’s reluctant. The thought of Richie walking in on him, naked and dripping wet, has him shivering in a strange discomfort he doesn’t quite understand. He’s sweaty though and he needs to calm down, so he splashes his face with water and changes out of his gym clothes quickly. Unexpectedly,Richie is waiting outside for him, leaning up against the wall and scrolling through his phone. He looks up when Eddie emerges.

“You were right about the rain.” There’s a dark cloud overhead. It’s pouring now. Eddie has to walk home in this. “Are you still okay to get back?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Thanks for this, by the way. It was… helpful.”

Richie snorts. “You sure?” He asks, ignoring Eddie’s gratitude. “It’s nasty out there. I can give you a lift home if you want. You’d have to check with your mother, but–”

“No,” Eddie says, far too quickly. He cuts Richie off mid sentence and then cringes, wishing he could have just kept his mouth shut. “Uh, sorry. Just… that’s fine, thank you.”

Richie is silent for a moment. He doesn’t take his eyes off Eddie and Eddie begins to wilt under the attention. Would it be a bad idea to take off right now? No, he’s exhausted and Richie would probably just follow him in his car, probably just wind the window down and tell him he’s a shit runner.

“Your mom doesn’t know that you’re here, does she?” Richie says after a loaded silence. Eddie gulps.

“What do you mean? I told her I was staying after school.”

Richie sighs. “You know you can’t take part in any of the actual competitions without parental consent, right?”

“I’m _eighteen–”_

“And a student.” Richie sounds firm– not mean, but insistent. “I’m all for breaking the rules, but I don’t want to actually get fired. Mike would kill me, and your mom would kill you.”

Eddie scuffs his shoes against the ground as they walk, side by side, close enough for their arms to brush every now and then. After a moment, he says, “No, she’d kill you.”

He grins, pleased with himself, as a laugh bursts out of Richie. It feels like an accomplishment. 

“Maybe,” He says. “But if anyone asks, I had no idea, okay? I’m completely innocent. You’re the bad influence that led me astray.”

“I’m sure everybody would believe that.” Eddie is surprised by how easy it is to talk to Richie like this, like they’ve been friends all their lives. Friendly banter doesn’t come easy to him and he usually deserves this kind of back and forth for Bev or Ben, but Richie fits into the conversation like there was a space waiting for him. Maybe Eddie should be concerned.

“Hey, listen,” Richie says suddenly, stopping just short of the exit and resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to catch his attention. The touch burns. “I can still give you a lift if you want. You don’t have to, like, call your mom, but also you probably shouldn’t mention it. It’s kind of frowned upon, the whole ‘consorting with students’ thing.”

Eddie pulls his jumper up over his face to hide a smile and flips his hood up. “Thank you,” He says. “But I can walk. You’re nothing if not professional, right?”

He walks away with the sound of Richie’s laughter echoing in his ears. He gets drenched on the way home and his mother freaks out about pneumonia and chest infections and irresponsible teachers for over an hour, but Eddie still thinks it was worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr @tiigixox :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoy this! <3

Eddie formulates a plan. 

Okay, so maybe skulking around a supermarket on the off chance of Richie being there is not a very  _ good  _ plan, but it’s a plan nonetheless. 

He’s not even entirely sure why he’s doing it. He wants to spend more time with Richie, is the thing, and not the Richie that couldn’t decide whether to be nasty or nice. That Richie - the Richie at school that saved Eddie from the Bowers gang and then gave him shit for not being good enough for the team - is far too confusing.

Speaking to Richie here had been a different experience entirely. It had been simple, easy, like talking to an old friend. There hadn’t been the pressure of being at school, being watched. There was no stifling reminder that Richie is Eddie’s coach either. That had been nice. 

So he doesn’t feel guilty so much as embarrassed that the weekend brings him back to that same supermarket, hoping to see Richie again. He’s not being creepy, he’s just… picking up some things for his mom, and if Richie happens to go shopping at the same time every week then that’s pure coincidence.

As he’s rounding the corner, Eddie’s phone beeps with a message, and he checks his notifications to see that Beverly has texted him.

_ ‘Dad’s out,’  _ it reads.  _ ‘Wanna come over??’ _

Eddie quickly sends a reply, heart sinking. He’s happy to be able to spend time with Bev, of course, and it’s ridiculous to be disappointed that he didn’t run into his teacher, but he can’t help himself. Richie just has an addictive personality, and when he’s not being a dick, he’s actually fun to be around.

That’s what Eddie will say if anyone asks, anyway.

He pays for his groceries and heads for the exit, struggling to pack everything into his backpack. He’ll drop his bag off at home before he heads to Beverly’s, just to feed his mom an excuse in case she wonders why he’s been gone so long. These are the precautions he’s always had to take. 

He’s out of the door and almost at the car park’s exit when a voice from behind him says, “You need a hand with that?”

“Ah!” Eddie shrieks, spinning round on his heel. His heart pounds in his chest and he has to calm his breathing when he sees that, sure enough, he’s run into Richie. Again. 

“Jesus!” Eddie says when he has himself under control again. Richie is leaning up against the building, a lit cigarette between his fingers and a collection of shopping bags gathered around his feet. He’s wearing tracksuits and a hoodie, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed. Eddie flushes, not wanting to be thinking about  _ Richie  _ and  _ bed  _ in the same sentence when the man is literally right in front of him.

“I’ll take it,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie narrows his eyes. “Are you stalking me?”

“No!” Eddie is maybe a little too defensive, a little too quick to answer, but if Richie notices he doesn’t say anything. “If anything, you’re the one stalking me.”

“Ouch, and here I thought you were happy to see me.” Richie doesn’t show any sign of moving and Eddie hesitates, looking over his shoulder like he’s afraid somebody might be watching. He dallies a little, shifting from foot to foot, before he thinks,  _ fuck it. _

“What made you think that?” Eddie let’s his backpack fall from his shoulder and closes the distance between them, moving to lean against the building next to Richie. He looks up at him, conscious of how much taller Richie is.

“Hmm,” Richie smirks, the corner of his lips tugged up into a smile that makes Eddie feel warm all over. He doesn’t offer any further reply. Instead, Eddie watches as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales deeply. “I’d offer to share, but something tells me you wouldn’t accept.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose and eyes the cigarette between Richie’s fingers. He knows he’ll forever associate the smell of nicotine with Richie from now on.

“They’ll kill you, you know.”

Richie raises his eyebrows, mock surprised, and Eddie looks down at his feet, feeling like he’s misspoken somehow. 

“What, this?” Richie’s tone changes. He’s playful, light hearted. Just like that, the tension in Eddie’s shoulders melts away. “No, no, it’s just a metaphor!”

It takes Eddie by surprise and he lets out a short bark of laughter before he can stop himself. Richie looks so smug and self satisfied that Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as a matter of principle. 

“You’re so dumb,” Eddie shakes his head, failing to hide his grin. “I don’t think you can say that if you’re actually smoking it.”

“No?” Richie looks down at the cigarette, all raised eyebrows and faux surprise. Eddie can’t pinpoint why he feels so suddenly nervous around Richie, but the atmosphere changes quickly. Eddie shuffles his feet and looks around, wondering how he’s going to leave now.

Richie seems to have noticed the shifting energy between them. He clears his throat, looks up at Eddie from behind a curtain of messy hair and says, “Are you… waiting for someone?”

Eddie’s body flushes. He feels warm all over and his stomach flutters. He realises with sudden clarity that what he’d been feeling - what he’s still feeling - is attraction. He’s helplessly attracted to his dumbass, hardass gym coach.

In other words, he’s fucked. 

“No,” Eddie says softly. “I’m– uh, I was just about to go home. I’m going to Beverly’s in a bit.”

“Beverly,” Richie frowns ever so slightly, eyebrows furrowing. Eddie wants to smooth the wrinkle away with his thumb. “Beverly Marsh, from gym.” Eddie nods, smiling thinly.

“You guys are pretty close then?” Richie continues, although Eddie is having a hard time focusing on anything other than how Richie’s lips move when he speaks. Now that he’s realised he’s attracted to Richie, it’s all he can think about. 

“I guess so,” Eddie shrugs. It seems like a strange question to ask. “We’ve been best friends for ages. Since before she and Ben even started dating, so… yeah, we’re pretty close.”

“Oh,” Richie says, lips twitching up into a smile. “Wow. That’s cute.”

It takes him a moment to process the words, and when he does Eddie blushes furiously. He can’t help it - his cheeks flush and he scowls even though he isn’t angry, even though he kind of wants to jump for joy and announce to the world that Richie Tozier, in a roundabout way at least, called him cute.

“Shut up!” He says eventually, because he can’t think of anything smarter to say and he can’t let Richie know how excited that made him.

“No, I’m serious!” Richie holds his hands up in surrender. The cigarette hands between his fingers, a thin plume of smoke disappearing into the air around them. “Am I really so evil that you don’t think I can be genuine, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, but he can feel his icy exterior melting in the face of Richie’s endearing idiocy. “One hundred percent evil,” he says.

“Well hail Satan, then,” Richie shrugs, not even bothering to hide his self satisfied smirk. “But really, Eds, it’s good that you have friends like that. When I first moved out to New York, I made friends with the wrong people and I almost died, so take from that what you will.”

Eddie shuffles a little closer, curious and drawn in by Richie’s words. He knows Bev’s dad won’t be gone for long and he has to get there soon if he wants to make it worthwhile, but he doesn’t want to turn down the opportunity to get to know Richie better either.

“Didn’t you…” he trails off, not sure what to say. He doesn’t know the parameters of his tentative friendship with Richie - he doesn’t know what would be offensive and what would just be casual conversation. Eventually he just says what’s on his mind. “Didn’t you have any friends before you left?”

“Sure,” Richie says. “I had Mike. After graduating high school, we went different ways. He ended up here, I ended up there. When he told me to move here, I thought he was joking at first. Me as a teacher? Like, does that make any sense to you?” 

Eddie knows he’s talking to himself at this point, but he can’t help but contribute a quiet, friendly, “Nope. None at all.”

Richie glances at him and laughs. “You have so much faith in me, it’s heartwarming.” He takes a slow drag and turns his head so that he isn’t blowing smoke in Eddie’s face. The gesture, as small as it is, makes Eddie smile. “Honestly, it didn’t make sense to me either, at first. But if he hadn’t done that, I’d probably still be in New York right now. Probably be at some dumb party with dumb college kids, as well. I kind of owe him my life.” 

Eddie is silent for a moment that stretches into an uncomfortably long pause. He has no idea of how to reply. Richie just bared his soul - how can Eddie match that?

“Don’t tell him I told you that, though,” Richie adds, almost as an afterthought, breaking some of the tension. “He has to work for his compliments.”

“Oh, of course,” Eddie nods, totally serious. “I never compliment my friends either. Wouldn’t want them to know I actually like them.”

He hates how accomplished he feels when Richie laughs, like he’s done something good. It  _ feels  _ good to see Richie’s face break into a smile, the way his eyes light up, the dimples that appear on his face. Eddie can’t even act like he isn’t enjoying this; Richie’s laugh is infectious and Eddie giggles along with him. He’s never felt so comfortable, so close, with anyone after such a short period of time. It feels like he’s known Richie for years, and hanging out with him feels like hanging out with any regular friend.

It takes the short burst of a car horn to knock Eddie out of the daydream he's somehow fallen into. He’s standing in a grocery store car park, sharing a weird but wholesome moment with his gym coach who, apparently, he has a crush on. He has shopping bags falling over at his feet and Beverly texting him to ask when he’s going to get there.

The whole world can’t stop turning, Eddie thinks, just because Richie shows him a tiny bit of attention - and he has to stop stalking the guy if he’s going to get over this strange infatuation. 

“Anyway,” Eddie says, shaking his head and leaning over to pick up his bags. He’s hyper aware of Richie, so close that he can feel the heat from his body, can feel Richie’s hip brush Eddie’s thigh when he stands back up. He should probably have thought that one through a little more carefully. There’s no better way to advertise your feelings for someone than backing your ass into them, after all.

“Anyway,” Richie parrots, looking away quickly. He pushes off the wall and takes a few small steps backwards, just to put some distance between them. He won’t look Eddie in the eye. 

“I should get going,” Eddie says.

“Yep.”

“I told Beverly I’d be at hers soon.”

“Uh huh,” he won’t even talk to him. Whatever just happened between them must have been just as intense - and inappropriate - for Richie as it was for Eddie. Has he really gone and fucked everything up already?

“It was nice talking,” Eddie says, one last peace offering.

“Yeah,” Richie nods. He’s still not looking at Eddie but his voice sounds softer now, less brusque. “I’m glad we… ran into each other. You– you need a lift anywhere?”

Eddie is overwhelmed all at once with the desire to just keep talking to Richie. He doesn’t want to leave, he doesn’t want to risk losing this comfortable, familiar back and forth they’ve got going on. He wants time to stop, just for a while, so that they can exist in their own little world.

What he wants, essentially, is to take Richie up on that offer.

But he knows that he can’t. Richie doesn’t want him to - or maybe he does, Eddie thinks, but is hoping that Eddie will be the one to say no. They can’t get any closer because they would both be risking so much just by being in a car together. Richie can’t find out about Eddie’s weird crush on him, and Eddie can’t risk ruining Richie’s new life. He won’t. 

“Thank you,” he says, thinking back on the last time they were in a similar situation. He wonders if he’ll ever get to say yes. “But that’s okay. I need the exercise if I’m ever gonna make the cut for your prestigious team, y’know?”

Richie rolls his eyes, but he looks relieved. “Good point. Strap those bags to your back for extra weight, see if you can jump a few hurdles on the way. Really push yourself, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie can’t think of a single joke in response to that. He feels so tender, what with how Richie is looking at him right now.

“Sure thing,” he says eventually, smiling. 

Eddie turns to leave - he can feel Richie watching him walk away and he fights to keep the giddy laughter from bubbling up - but he can’t resist one more remark, one last look. It feels like he’s walking away from something monumental, and he’s not talking about Walmart.

“Hey, Richie?” He says, swallowing nervously. He feels vulnerable like this, like he’s putting himself and all his feelings on display. He waits until Richie has hummed in acknowledgement before he continues. “Just so you know, I think you’re a good teacher. I’m glad you’re here.”

Richie smiles, and stubs his cigarette out on the wall behind him. “Y’know what, Eds?” he says. “Me too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long again! I swear this fic will get finished if it absolutely kills me lol

Eddie is expecting Richie to move next week’s track session indoors. The grey clouds roll in overhead and before the end of the school day it’s pouring with rain. The field is practically waterlogged and it’s way too cold outside for Eddie to wear his running shorts.

He shows up in the locker room after the final bell expecting Richie to train him inside. He is, of course, severely disappointed. 

“What if it’s raining on the day of the competition, huh?” Richie says, from the comfort of his thermal jacket with his hood pulled down over his eyes. “What then?”

“They’d probably just postpone the competition,” Eddie grumbles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts even though they’re tiny and it’s uncomfortable. 

“But what if they _didn’t,”_ Richie says, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Are you sure this is absolutely necessary? If my clothes get muddy my mom will freak out.”

“Well you better not fall over.” Richie crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot against the ground like the unrelenting asshole he is. “Get running!”

Eddie runs. It’s always hard, the first few steps; maybe it’s just conditioning, but usually he feels like he’s going to trip over his feet and smack face first into the floor. Once he’s settled into the rhythm, though, it’s easy to keep going. The wind in his face is the best feeling, the burn in his lungs that he thought would kill him. It makes him feel so powerful, so overwhelmed, that he could cry. If only Sonia could see him now, he thinks, but he knows that she would never understand. She worries too much, is all.

He makes a full lap sooner than he expects, and before he knows it he’s doubled over and staring at Richie’s shoes. Rain slicks his t-shirt to his skin, damp and gross when he holds it away from his chest. Eddie could swear that Richie’s eyes flit down to where he’s ringing the water out of the fabric, but he’s clapping his hands and moving on before Eddie can think about it too hard.

“Not bad, Eds,” Richie says, tucking his stopwatch back into his pocket. “Not bad at all. You’re getting faster.”

“Fast enough to make the team?” Eddie raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Richie to make some wisecrack about tryouts and Eddie buying his way onto the team.

To Eddie’s surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he chuckles softly and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a hidden smile. “Eddie,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re on the team. Of _course_ you’re on the team. If you keep this up you’ll probably be the best runner we have.”

Eddie slowly to a stop and turns to face Richie, the heels of his trainers sinking further into the mud. “Really?” He asks, hating how insecure he sounds. Why does he seek Richie’s approval so desperately? Why does Richie’s praise mean so much to him? It’s embarrassing.

“Of course.” Richie shrugs. He starts walking around the outside of the running track and Eddie follows him, not quite sure what else to do. “I’m only ever teasing you, Eds. You know that, right?”

“What?”

“When I say that you’re not good enough, or that you need to practise more. I’m only ever joking. You’re probably better than half the team without the extra training.”

“You’re only saying that because you hate half the team,” Eddie knocks his shoulder against Richie’s, trying to lighten the mood. Richie is being oddly intense and Eddie doesn’t know how to deal with it again. 

“Hate is a very strong word, Eddie,” Richie says. “I just think they’re little assholes. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Of course not, that would be very unprofessional,” Eddie grins. He takes another step, looking up at Richie with what is probably a dopey grin and cartoon hearts for eyes. His shoe slips in the mud and before Eddie knows what’s happening, his arms are pinwheeling and he’s falling backwards through the air, landing on his back in the mud and dirt.

“Careful!” Richie cries, wincing in commiseration when Eddie tries to get up and ends up slipping again. “Jesus, I take it back. You need to work on your coordination, I think.”

“Oh my god, shut up and help me up,” Eddie says, but it lacks it’s usual bite and instead just sounds miserable. He feels gross; his clothes are ruined and he has mud in his _hair,_ all because he couldn’t stop pining after Richie. He’s not in any place to be judging anyone right now.

“So...” Richie looks him up and down, and under normal circumstances that would have Eddie blushing, feeling all giddy and lightheaded. It’s sort of hard to feel excited when you’re covered in mud though, so now Eddie just sighs. “A few more hill sprints and then we’re done?”

Eddie swipes the mud from his face the same way his mother wipes away her makeup at the end of the day, and flicks it off his fingers. “You’re not funny,” he says, with a withering expression. 

Richie rolls his eyes. “Come on. There are showers in the locker room. You’ll have to use one of them.”

“I don’t have a towel.” Eddie isn’t _complaining,_ exactly. It’s just that the last thing he wants is to be completely naked with only a flimsy piece of cloth between himself and Richie.

Richie just shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Eddie wonders if he’s thinking about it, if he’s freaking out about it as much as Eddie is. “You can use mine,” he says.

Eddie gulps. “Cool,” he says, in a small voice. “Thanks.”

***

Eddie fucking hates the showers at school. They’re disgusting and his mother would have a stroke if she knew he was actually using them. The drains are clogged with hair and Eddie’s willing to bet that at least one person in each class has pissed in here before; he’s never showered in school and he really doesn’t want to now, but if he shows up home looking like this he won’t be allowed out for a week.

Thankfully he has spare clothes ready to change into but the thought of Richie leaving a towel for him to use has him feeling warm all over. What the hell is he going to do? Give it back to him, used and still damp? Take it home and wash it, and have to explain to his mother where it came from? Should he even offer, or would that be weirder? God, he wishes Beverly were here so that she could tell him what to do. She’s never awkward– she always looks comfortable wherever she is, looks like she belongs there, and you wouldn’t know how much of that was an act unless you really knew her.

Eddie showers as quickly as he can. They’re finishing earlier than normal because of the rain - and Eddie’s clumsiness, but he’s going to pretend that never happened - so he doesn’t have to worry about being late home. All the same, he doesn’t want Richie to have to wait for him.

Thinking about Richie in the shower makes Eddie cringe again; every time his stupid, schoolboy crush even crosses his mind he feels embarrassed, like Richie will just know what he’s thinking. _I’m thinking of a brick wall,_ Eddie repeats in his head like a mantra as he turns the shower off and wraps the towel around his waist. The only benefit of showering after school is that there’s no class out there waiting to mock him and try to grab the towel away. His feet slap against the floor, wet and slippery as he makes his way over to his locker.

He hears Richie before he sees him. There’s the groan of the door being pushed open, the echo of a cough in the hall and then, “Eddie? Did you slip or something? What’s taking you so–”

Eddie whips around, one hand desperately clutching the towel at his waist, the other flung across his chest like it’ll preserve his modesty or something. This probably would be hilarious if it was any of his friends, but the fact that it’s _Richie,_ that he _likes_ Richie, that Richie is his fucking gym coach, means that Eddie can’t laugh at this. He just freezes, shocked and humiliated.

“Oh,” Richie says softly, cheeks colouring. His eyes dart from Eddie’s face to his bare chest to his face again, so quickly that Eddie would have missed it if he’d blinked. Richie half turns, jaw clenched tight, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes like he’s protecting Eddie’s fucking decency. Eddie can’t even find _that_ funny, that’s how awful the whole situation is. This is why he should never catch feelings for people, Eddie decides.

“Sorry,” The words tumble out of Richie’s mouth one after another, more and more frantic by the second. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t even think. I’ll go right now. Sorry. Didn’t mean to– to make you uncomfortable or… anything. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie says, hurrying to reassure him. If there’s one thing worse than this awkward situation, it’s acknowledging how awkward it actually is. Eddie will die before he ever admits to being embarrassed. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it, no worries. I’m almost done. Just, uh, five more minutes. Then I’ll be out. Sorry.”

“Cool, cool,” Richie is saying, but he’s already on his way out, throwing the words back over his shoulder. 

Eddie takes a deep breath as soon as the door is closed and he’s alone again. What the fuck. He needs to pull himself together. 

He gets dressed with trembling hands; his chest has gone tight and painful like it does whenever he gets anxious, breath coming in shaky and shallow. When he’s finished, he runs the towel over his hair to try and tame his curls and then balls it up in his arms, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder and heading for the exit.

He doesn’t know whether he wants Richie to be waiting for him or not. The urge to spend more time with him, for once, is balanced with the urge to hide his face in his pillow and never go out in public again. 

Richie is waiting for him, of course, because he’s a good guy and a gentleman, and because taking off after _that_ would make it all seem seedier. He turns when Eddie appears, smiling a little sheepishly.

“Hi,” he says. “You all good?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, stuffing his free hand into his pocket so that it doesn’t just hang limp at his side. Richie tracks the movement with his eyes. 

He wonders if he should apologise again. Would that make it seem like he was thinking about it _too_ much? Probably. He keeps quiet. 

“You can keep that, by the way,” Richie says, nodding at the towel in Eddie’s arms. That shouldn’t be as sweet as it is.

Eddie hesitates, about to thank him, already planning to sleep with it under his fucking pillow, when he takes a second to think about it. “Oh,” he says, biting his lower lip. “Thanks, but I better not. My mom…”

He doesn’t have to finish. A cloud comes over Richie’s face. “Right,” he says. “Of course. Sorry.” Eddie hands it back awkwardly, and tries not to think about how much of a loser he is. “Listen, Eddie,” Richie continues. “I really don’t think you should be walking back in this. I can give you a lift. You don’t have to tell your mom, but, uh, maybe keep it on the downlow. Y’know, just so I don’t get fired.”

His words prompt a smile out of Eddie at the very least, and some of the tension between them mercifully begins to melt away. Eddie can feel Richie getting his confidence back, recharging. 

“Are you sure that’s alright?” Normally Eddie would refuse the offer - it won’t help to fill his head with impossible daydreams - but he just took a shower and as gross as it was, he really doesn’t want to get soaked again. He can indulge, just this one time. It doesn’t have to _mean_ anything. 

Richie’s car is exactly what Eddie thought it would be: a tiny, beat up model from about a decade ago that has empty take out wrappers on the floor and smells of cigarettes. Eddie winces at the thought of getting in there, but he isn’t going to cause a problem for Richie when he’s doing Eddie a favour in the first place.

“Sorry about the mess,” Richie says airily, throwing an empty sweet wrapper into the backseat. Eddie fishes out a couple of half smoked cigarette butts out from under him and sits down. “I probably wouldn’t have cleaned up even if I’d known you were coming, but I’d have thought about it at least.”

“Such a gentleman,” Eddie teases, and it eases some of the tension between them. “Don’t worry about it. You should see my room.”

Richie glances at him out of the corner of his eye with a sly smile. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me, Kasprbak?”

“Me?” Eddie places the back of his hand to his forehead, over the top and giddy. “I think you’re getting me mixed up with yourself. _I_ would never lie.”

“Honest Ed, huh?”

“Oh yeah, that’s me.” Eddie rolls his eyes with a self indulgent grin. “Honest Ed. That’s what everybody calls me.”

They lapse into silence, comfortable and familiar. Eddie doesn’t feel the need to make noise like he might with anybody else, and he doesn’t feel rude staying silent either. Being with Richie is all the best parts of being with himself, and all the best parts of being with a friend. 

“You’ll have to tell me where to go from here,” Richie says gently, as though he doesn’t want to disturb the sleepy atmosphere that’s settled over the both of them, as though he feels it too. “I haven’t been out exploring much.”

“Left here,” Eddie murmurs, eyelids drooping. “Mmm, you should go.”

Richie blinks, looks between Eddie and the road. “Like, right now? I think I’d get a pretty bad road burn but I’ll give it a go for you, Eds.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Idiot. I mean you should go exploring. Turn right here– it’s not like Derry is the most exciting place but… I dunno, man. You should check out more than just the supermarket.”

Richie steers around the corner and onto Eddie’s street, slow and smooth. Eddie can hear his breathing, even, steady, in time with Eddie’s own. 

“I wouldn’t know where to go,” Richie says. “It would be kind of sad to go see all these _exciting_ places on my own.”

Eddie doesn’t even think about it, doesn’t realise why it’s a bad idea. He just gives a little sleepy groan and says, “I’ll take you.”

Richie freezes, as much as he can behind the wheel of a car. Slowly, he blinks, swallows, looks to Eddie and away before Eddie can catch him staring. 

“Yeah?” He asks, almost nervous, then nods, decisive. “Yeah. Okay. It’s a date.”

The words shock Eddie enough that his eyes fly open in time for him to see his own house flit past. His mom’s car is already parked in the drive.

“Wait!” Eddie cries, sitting up straight in his chair. Richie slams the break to the floor and they both jerk forward, caught only by the seatbelts.

“What?” Richie gasps. “Are you okay? I’m– shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just meant–”

“No, no,” Eddie hurries to reassure him. The last thing he wants is Richie thinking Eddie feels uncomfortable around him. “My house. You just passed my house.”

Richie throws his arm over the back of Eddie’s seat to turn around and look, like he’s reversing, like a hug, and Eddie freezes. It’s so casual but so _there,_ the presence, the warmth, even if it’s only psychosomatic. Richie laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Eddie has ever heard.

“Shit, Eddie, you scared me,” he says, shaking his head. “Coulda fucking killed us.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “I didn’t mean to, like, freak you out or anything. Earlier, either. You didn’t… make me uncomfortable.” Here, Richie goes very still, very cautious. “It would be nice. What you said. It would be– really nice. I’d like that. With you.”

“Eddie…” Richie starts, and Eddie knows, just knows, that he’s not going to like what comes next.

“Don’t,” he says quickly, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the window for a second before turning, glancing at Richie from under his eyelashes. “Whatever you’re about to say… just don’t. You don’t need to.”

“I just,” Richie says, stops, tries again. “I’m not– I didn’t mean–”

“Richie.” Eddie reaches out a tentative hand and lays it on Richie’s arm, curls his fingers around Richie’s wrist, feels his pulse jackrabbiting. The point of contact seems to knock the wind out of Richie’s argument.

Eddie can barely breathe. It seems like it all happens at the same time: Eddie tilts his face up and then Richie is right there and his mouth tastes like sugar, sickly sweet. 

It only lasts a second. As far as Eddie’s concerned, it’s over far too quickly. Richie pulls away, breathing heavy, eyes wide, horrified. Eddie watches as he leans against the car door, as far away from Eddie as he can possibly get.

“Oh no,” he says, voice breaking. “Oh fuck.”

“Richie, wait,” Eddie says, already beginning to panic. What was he thinking? He’s gone and ruined everything and now the hesitant friendship he’d cultivated with Richie is over and he’ll have to suffer through class for the entirety of senior year with his gym coach knowing about Eddie’s dumb, schoolboy crush on him.

“No,” Richie is already shaking his head, jaw set in a tight, tense line. “No, Eddie. You have to leave.” When Eddie doesn’t move - just sits there, watching, shattering - he says, “Eddie, _go!_ Get out!”

Eddie doesn’t wait another second. He flings the car door open and runs out into the rain.

***

Eddie’s phone buzzes at just gone midnight. He thinks for a strange, sleepy minute, with a flurry of sudden movement and panicked breathing, that it’s Richie. Somehow Richie got his phone number: he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Eddie in the same way that Eddie can’t stop thinking about him, and he just has to talk about what happened earlier.

Maybe…

Eddie feels guilty at the disappointment unfurling in his stomach when he sees Beverly’s name flash on his screen. Even though it’s only been a few days, it feels far too long since he and Beverly last met up to talk. 

“Hey, Bev. Sorry I haven’t–” he cuts himself off abruptly when he realises that Beverly hasn’t said anything. He can hear her breathing, can hear that telltale sniff, the hitch of breath on the other end of the line, that gives her away. She’s crying. Trying not to, but she’s crying, and she called Eddie. Shit.

“Bev?” He asks, panic setting in now. “Beverly? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m in the park,” she says, clearing her throat and speaking again with a wavering voice. “In the park by your house. I’m– Eddie, _please,_ I need you. My dad… I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m on my way.” There’s no hesitation. He’ll have to sneak out the window without waking his mother up - not hard, she sleeps like the dead anyway - but there’s no question about it. Beverly needs him. She never says that. Something terrible must have happened. 

Eddie can feel his heartbeat in his throat, can taste blood as he slides the window open and throws a leg over the edge. There’s a ledge out there that he balances the ball of his foot on; he’s only done this a few times - doesn’t like to do it when it feels like he’s betraying his mother - but it doesn’t take him long. It’s not far to the ground so he manages it in under five minutes and then he’s off, feet stuffed loosely into his trainers, the wind whipping his face.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see when he gets there. He’s dreading the sight of Beverly hurt, Beverly with a black eye or with blood smeared under her nose– or worse. Her clothes torn? Her neck bruised? Fuck, he’s so nervous. It takes a lot to make Beverly cry. 

With a heaving sigh, Eddie turns the corner and comes to a stop. He can see Beverly, standing still on the other side of the park, but he’s too far away to tell if she’s visibly hurt or not. He crosses the distance quickly, catching his breath after the unexpected jog but not wanting to slow down too much. Each moment he spends walking is a moment he isn’t spending with Bev. He’s wasting time.

“Eddie,” she says when she sees him, wiping the back of her hand under her nose. She brushes away angry tears and wraps her arms around her stomach. “Hey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

She doesn’t finish. Eddie doesn’t know what she was going to apologise for but he knows she doesn’t need to, and hopefully she does too. 

She’s had some time to put herself together now, and her voice is soft but even when she says, “I had to get out, Eddie. I couldn’t stay there. Not after what he…”

“Did?”

“Said,” Beverly corrects, but it’s no less worrying. “Just shit about my mom, about how it was my fault. How I’m not–” She hiccups with a sob. “How I’m not allowed to leave, because I have to make up for– for killing her.”

Her composure falls apart. Her hands fall by her side and she sinks to the ground, drawing her knees to her chest. Eddie’s chest aches to see Bev like this - Bev, who is usually so strong and unphaseable. He falls to his knees beside her and places a gentle hand between her shoulder blades, waiting to see how she’ll react.

Thankfully, she turns towards him instead of away. She curls into his chest, even though he’s smaller and slighter than her, and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“Sorry,” she says, in between wet cries. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. God, I’m such a fucking mess.”

Eddie’s throat stings and his eyes water. Fuck Alvin Marsh. “You’re not,” he says. “You’re super cool. You’re my super cool best friend.”

“Shut up,” Bev laughs, shoulders hitching. “You’re dumb. You’re dumb but you’re not a mess.”

Eddie almost tells her. He almost tells her about he and Richie, and everything that’s happened until now. It would be so easy to cheer her up, entertain her, get her smiling again. It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would distract her for just a few minutes, and sometimes that’s the best you can hope for.

He can’t do it, though. He can’t do that to Richie, betray his trust so completely. Eddie knows Bev would never tell anyone, but Richie doesn’t. 

“Just think,” Eddie says, stroking her hair. “When we get out of here, when we can live together, we’re gonna be the coolest fucking duo out there. No one can stop us.”

There’s a hopeful stretch of silence, and then Beverly sniffles and says, “Trio. Ben’s gotta be there with us.”

Eddie smiles, tension draining away, shoulders dropping. “Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. Coolest fucking trio.”

“Can I sleep at yours tonight?” She asks. “No worries if not. I know your mom’s–”

“You can,” Eddie says quickly. “Of course you can. You can borrow some clothes for tomorrow if you want.”

Bev’s smile dims. “Thanks,” she says, wistful. “But I probably shouldn’t. If my dad sees me wearing a boy’s clothes… he’d freak the fuck out.”

Eddie clenches his teeth but tries not to show his rage. He knows Beverly knows what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling, in the angry jerk of his chest, up and down. She doesn’t say anything though, so Eddie doesn’t either.

“Yeah,” he says. “Probably for the best. Wouldn’t want Ben to get the wrong idea.”

It startles a laugh out of her if nothing else, and Eddie’s chest fills with pride. 

They fall into silence again. Beverly seems content to stay in the cold on the floor, and Eddie doesn’t want to disturb her too soon. 

“Hey,” Eddie says gently. “You know he’s wrong, don’t you? Everything he said. It’s all a lie. He’s just a fucking asshole who can’t accept his own shitty life.”

Beverly doesn’t say anything. Eddie worries that maybe he’s made things worse, maybe he’s upset her, when she pulls away and chews on her thumbnail. She doesn’t look at him when she says:

“You know, when it first happened? When he first started acting like this? I was so sure it was just a phase. I thought it was gonna blow over and that he just needed to get all this anger and pain and frustration out of his system. So… I didn’t say anything. I didn’t complain, I didn’t call him out. I just… didn’t _do_ anything, Eddie. I let it happen, ‘cause I thought it wouldn’t last long.” She wipes her eyes again, silent tears spilling down her cheeks. “I think if I’d said something back then, everything might have turned out differently. Maybe he’d have stopped sooner, got some fucking help or something. I don’t know. Maybe that’s all just wishful thinking, but the bitch of it is that I’ll never know.”

There’s nothing Eddie can say to that. Nothing that can make it better. He wants to tell her to stop entertaining ‘what ifs’, that it’ll only hurt her more, but the words get to him. 

_If I’d said something back then, everything might have turned out differently._

He’s an asshole, because his friend is here crying in his arms, and he can’t help but think of Richie. 

_The bitch of it is that I’ll never know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...


	7. Chapter 7

Richie doesn’t go to school the next day, or the day after that. That first day, Eddie thinks it could be a coincidence. Maybe he caught a cold in the rain or he had a really late night or, shit, maybe his pet hamster died, Eddie doesn’t fucking know.

By the second day though, when they’re greeted by the cheerfully naive smile of a temp for the second time in a row, Eddie is beginning to worry. Maybe this is a bigger deal than he first thought.

It’s not like he can even tell anyone about it, about why he’s so tense and nervous and on edge all the time. His mother makes a vague comment about homework stressing him out and he spends a good half hour convincing her not to call the school to complain, but other than that she doesn’t seem to have noticed anything different about him.

He feels different now. He feels like Richie has reached inside his chest and replaced Eddie’s heart with his own. It’s the only explanation, Eddie thinks, for why he daydreams about Richie all the fucking time.

It gets so bad that on a Friday evening, instead of studying or messaging with Bev and Ben, Eddie is trawling through social media on the fake Facebook account he set up last year, desperate to find a ‘Richie Tozier’ in Derry, Maine.

He made the account when he had just turned seventeen, ironically enough for this very purpose. He couldn’t let his mom or anyone from school know what he was doing - and here is where Eddie might be a little paranoid, but growing up gay and closeted will do that to you. He hasn’t posted any pictures or filled in any personal information - where his name should be, he has instead called himself E.K - but he’s joined a bunch of online support groups and met a few interesting people. 

They’re not the kinds of things he would want his mom or her church buddies to know about, but hopefully they’re the kind of things that would tip Richie off that E.K is not, in fact, a stranger.

It’s easier than Eddie was expecting, finding Richie on Facebook. Tozier isn’t exactly a common last name, especially not when he narrows down the search to Maine, and pretty soon he has a picture of Richie’s face grinning back at him on the screen. Eddie sits back against his pillows and balances his laptop on his knees, weirdly shy. There’s no one around to see him, but he feels guilty just doing this, like he’s being a creep. He certainly feels like a creep when his first instinct is to look through Richie’s photos. 

There aren’t many. A few of him with Mr Hanlon, a few with a man that Eddie doesn’t recognise. Their cheeks are pressed together and they’re both smiling, and Eddie feels a sharp spike of jealousy until he checks the date. They were posted almost two years ago, back when Richie was still living in New York, the period in his life that he regrets. Eddie must be awful that the thought brings him some relief. 

He sends off a friend request almost without thinking. If Richie is going to be immature and avoid him - avoid _school_ \- just because of what happened, then Eddie has no choice but to seek him out. All he’s doing is setting the record straight. He has no ulterior motive here at all.

If he maybe screenshots the picture of Richie smiling, eyes shining, looking happier than Eddie has ever seen him… well. No one has to know. 

Nothing happens for a long time. Eddie feels uneasy and restless; watching the clock makes time pass slower, Eddie thinks, and watching the minutes tick by waiting for Richie to respond feels like a lifetime. He’s filled with a nervous energy that has him jittery and excited, desperate for something to happen and yet terrified than anything actually will. Eddie opens up a word document to try and get some homework done, but he can’t focus on his history essay and he gets all of three meaningless sentences written before he gives up entirely and lowers his screen.

He’s never felt like this before. He’s had crushes in the past of course, fleeting attractions and silly daydreams, but nothing as potent as this. He feels drunk on it.

Half an hour passes before Eddie gets any kind of response. He’s in the living room, curled up at the edge of the couch as his mom watches TV on the armchair. She isn’t paying him any attention, but when his laptop pings with a notification she looks over.

“What was that, Eddie bear?” She asks, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Is someone trying to talk to you?”

Eddie rests his laptop on his knees. There’s one new message in his inbox, and when he scrolls down, he sees it’s from Richie.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, he _replied._

“No one, mom,” Eddie says, panicked but trying to appear calm. “Uh, it’s no one. Nothing. Just an email from my teacher.”

Eddie could slap himself as the words come out of his mouth. It takes another beat for him to realise that, to anybody else, that’s not actually suspicious. 

“Aw, baby, are they working you too hard?” His mom frowns, reaches out to pat the top of his head like he’s a toddler. “You know what I think about all that homework. They don’t give children any time to play anymore. I’ll phone the school, Eddie, how about that? Maybe you can have a day off next week and we can spend some time together?”

Eddie swallows, breathes in through his nose and out through pursed lips in a long, shaky exhale. _Lord, give me patience,_ he thinks, even though he stopped believing in God a while ago. 

“That’s okay, mommy,” he says, sliding off the edge of the sofa and holding his laptop to his chest, protective and cautious, his arms wrapped around it. “It’s just about an essay I handed in last week. It was really good.”

His mom brightens. “Of course it was,” she says. “You wrote it.”

Eddie laughs. “Thanks, mom.”

“Are you leaving, Eddie?” She looks at her wristwatch, but the hands have been broken for a long time. It’s always quarter to two for Sonia Kaspbrak, the second hand going from six to seven, back and forth, over and over. She gives up after a moment and turns to him, imploring.

“You never want to spend time with me anymore, Eddie. You’re always too busy with your friends.” She says ‘friends’ like it’s a dirty word, like it’s something to be ashamed of, and Eddie knows she’s thinking of Beverly. He ignores the stab of guilt and the little spike of anger that her words produce in him, instead leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Sorry, mom,” he says. “We can do something tomorrow. You borrowed that new DVD from your friend, right? Maybe we could watch that.”

“I have my book club tomorrow, Eddie, you know that.” She gives him a disapproving look, as though he has disappointed her by forgetting. He always leaves the house on Saturdays so he doesn’t have to deal with his mother and her posse of neighbourhood gossips, but there’s been too much on his mind lately. His mother's book club hasn’t exactly been a top priority.

“Right,” Eddie winces. “Sorry.” _Sorrysorrysorry._ “Sunday then?”

Mom frowns. “Okay, Eddie. You have to promise me though. You’re not allowed to break your promises.”

“I promise, mom,” he says, and heads for the stairs.

*

He checks Richie’s message as soon as he’s alone.

_What are you doing?_

It’s so simple but such a loaded question, and Eddie doesn’t know how to answer. What _is_ he doing? Doesn’t he realise this will end badly? Is that what Richie’s trying to say, to show him? Or does Richie mean it literally, ‘what the fuck are you playing at sending me a message on here don’t you realise we’ll get caught?’ Eddie doesn’t know which he’d prefer to be true. 

He thinks about what to say for a while. There’s so much he wants to tell Richie, so much that would be easier to admit over messages where Eddie doesn’t have to look him in the eye. Nothing that Richie would want to discuss, probably.

Eventually, quick-fire messages one after the other, he settles on:

_You weren’t in school_

_What’s going on?_

Not the best he could have done, certainly, but Eddie isn’t exactly thinking straight. He’s still riding the wave of excitement that Richie’s reply brought.

 _We shouldn’t be talking on here,_ is Richie’s next reply, simple and predictable. Eddie knows that, but he can’t seem to stop himself, and despite everything Richie is still responding, so there must be some part of him that wants to talk to Eddie too.

Eddie thinks for a moment before he replies. He has no idea what he wants to say, really, just knows that he’ll take whatever excuse he can get to talk to Richie. He wants to talk about what happened earlier, but at the same time he doesn’t. It’s like this giddy, manic energy building up in his chest that he can’t get out unless he talks about the kiss, but the second he opens his mouth it all just… fizzles out. One second it feels like he’s going to explode, the next he has absolutely nothing to say. How is Richie fucking with his mind so much when he’s not even _here?_

_I wanted to discuss what we spoke about in today’s tutoring lesson. I don’t quite understand what we went over and I’d appreciate the opportunity to have further practise. Could I perhaps get your personal phone number so that we could speak on this further?_

He even signs the message with his name and initials, like it isn’t a fucking Facebook message. It’s a dramatically different tone to his other messages, almost comical in its formality, but if Richie wants to play the game like that then Eddie can get on board. Just as he’d expected, he gets a reply within minutes.

_I’m afraid a personal phone number will be impossible, as I understand private correspondences between teachers and students are discouraged. Feel free to drop by my classroom during a free period and we can discuss school work there._

Eddie smiles, just a little, can’t help himself. Even though it’s formal and overly polite and the furthest thing from flirty, he can still detect something sarcastic underneath that’s so undeniably _Richie_ that it makes his chest ache.

 _I completely understand,_ he writes back. _However, I find myself unable to complete tonight’s assignment without having proper understanding of the subject. Could I perhaps get your home address so that we could speak on this immediately?_

God, he feels like such a dramatic bitch, holding his laptop to his chest and pressing his face into the pillow just to keep from screaming. This, by far, is the second coolest thing to happen to him. The number one spot is taken by the memory of kissing in Richie’s car, right outside Eddie’s own house as rain fell around them. When he thinks about it like that it’s very romantic, not at all the seedy, gross story it would otherwise be where Eddie stepped on a half chewed french fry on his way out of the car.

 _A home address would also be inappropriate,_ reads Richie’s reply, _and I strongly urge you not to seek it out either on this website or from any other information resource, online or_ _otherwise_ _._

Jesus, this really is beginning to feel like a game and Eddie can’t tamp down on his enthusiasm. Why underline the word ‘otherwise’ unless there was some sort of physical paper with Richie’s address on it? Of course, Eddie could be reading this all wrong and Richie isn’t playing any sort of game with him - he could genuinely be telling Eddie to fuck off and leave him alone - but… he’ll face that problem if he comes to it.

“Holy _shit!”_ Eddie says out loud, and then claps a hand over his mouth. His mom is still downstairs and the blare of the TV would probably drown out a scream, but he can never be too careful. He’d just been hit suddenly by a realisation: The Derry Pages has a section at the back where it welcomes newcomers to town. It wouldn’t have his exact address, but it would have Richie’s street and Eddie will recognise his car in the driveway. Holy shit indeed.

It’s last month’s copy, but Eddie’s mom’s a hoarder and she never throws stuff away. This might be the one situation where that’s a good thing, because it means he can sneak downstairs without her noticing and find the newspaper laying abandoned on the kitchen table, stained with coffee circles and dried tomato ketchup. Gross.

He finds the page easily, and it only takes a few seconds of scanning the page to land on Richie’s name, _Richard Tozier:_ Eddie’s become so attuned to that name these last few weeks that he could probably pick it out of a fucking word search. 

Turns out, Richie’s street is only a couple blocks away from Beverly’s apartment building. Eddie could get there quicker on his bike, but he’ll have to sneak out the window to avoid his mom seeing him and he can’t attract any more attention. It’s cold outside but it isn’t raining, so he pulls a hoodie over his t-shirt and slips his shoes back on, setting off.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, really. He hasn’t got a plan in mind or a speech prepared. If he’s right, then Richie will be expecting him, but if he’s wrong and Richie gets nervous about the whole thing, he could be looking at a school suspension here. He doubts Richie will go for that option though; they kissed, and even though Eddie would never, ever hold that over Richie’s head, it means that he always has something up his sleeve. The thought makes him giggle, still half stuck in disbelief. 

Richie’s house, when Eddie finally finds it, is pretty. He’s living in a nice enough part of town, and his car is parked on the curb just like Eddie expected it to be. He spends a little longer than he should just staring at that car, remembering what happened the last time he was in it, and then he shakes the thought out of his head and goes straight to the front door.

His fingers fidget with the strings of his hoodie as he waits for an answer. The doorbell had been sharp and loud, echoing even outside the house. There’s no way Richie didn’t hear it.

What’s he going to say? Why didn’t he think of this before he came here? What if Richie has company– shit, what if Richie has Mr Hanlon over, or some other colleague-friend? Why didn’t Eddie think of all the ways this could blow up in their faces _beforehand–_

 _“Eddie?”_ Eddie hears it before the door is even fully open. Richie stands in the doorway, one hand keeping balance on the frame, as he blinks in shock. Eddie can’t figure out if he looks proud or horrified. “Jesus _Christ._ How long have you been out there?”

Eddie opens his mouth to reply, but before he even gets a chance Richie has wrapped a hand up in the collar of his hoodie and yanks him inside, slamming the door behind him.

“I thought…” Eddie stops, chews the inside of his cheek, wondering if he’s made a terrible mistake. “I thought you wanted me to come. You said–”

“I know what I said!” Richie snaps, cutting him off. Then he laughs, shrill and manic. “I can’t believe this is happening. Eddie, this is insane. You shouldn’t even be here– we shouldn’t even be talking.”

At that, Eddie is filled with a strange new confidence. He squares his shoulders and crosses his arms across his chest, says, “We _need_ to talk, though. About what happened. When you kissed me.”

Richie stops pacing, turns on him with his mouth slack. “Sorry, _what?_ When I kissed you? That’s not–! Eddie, _you_ kissed _me!”_

“What the fuck?” Eddie’s arms fall to his sides again and now there’s frustration building in his chest, a slow pressure that threatens to blow any second. “That’s not what happened at all! We were in the car and then you kissed me!”

“Uh, _no._ I was driving, Eddie!”

“Oh, please,” Eddie rolls his eyes. They haven’t even made it past the entrance and they’re already arguing. “You were parked.”

“Maybe,” Richie says through gritted teeth. “But only because you yelled out _stop_ when we were in the middle of the fucking street.”

“Well maybe next time you should pay some more attention to where you’re going, dumbass.”

“God, you are _such_ a little shit,” Richie says, and then his hands are on Eddie’s shoulders and they’re both stumbling back together. Eddie’s head knocks painfully against the wall from the force of Richie’s mouth on his.

Eddie can barely think. Richie is so warm and so fucking big that he overwhelms all of Eddie’s senses; one hand cups Eddie’s face and the other falls to his waist, fingertips just brushing at the bare skin under his clothes. Those points of contact feel electric.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispers, head spinning. It’s hard to concentrate on anything but Richie, especially when he nips Eddie’s lower lip or when he slides their tongues together. His stubble burns Eddie’s face but it feels so fucking good that he doesn’t even care.

“This is such a bad idea,” Richie is saying over and over, whispering it into Eddie’s mouth like a secret. 

“Shut up,” is all Eddie can think to reply. He’s never kissed anybody before - not like this - and it’s all he can do to keep up. Richie holds Eddie’s face in his hands and tilts his head, leading him, guiding him, and Eddie could fucking cry with how hard he is. His knees feel weak– the only thing keeping him upright is Richie’s weight pressing him against the wall.

“You’re so fucking hot, Eddie, got no idea.” His hand slides over Eddie’s hip and down to his thigh, squeezes hard through the fabric there before he fumbles at the button of Eddie’s jeans. Eddie hadn’t prepared for this, wasn’t expecting this at all despite all the scenarios he ran through in his head, and he might come at the first touch of Richie’s hand to his dick.

“Oh my god,” he says, voice soft and breathless. He wonders if Richie can tell how nervous he is.

Probably, because the next thing Eddie knows, Richie is easing backwards, tilting Eddie’s face up with a gentle hand guiding his chin.

“Hey,” he says, pupils blown wide with arousal. “Is this good? You like this?” The palm of his hand presses flat over the outline of Eddie’s erection and Eddie groans, throws his head back until it hits the wall and focuses on not riding Richie’s hand until he comes. His lips feel numb from kissing, his face warm from Richie’s stubble. Every nerve ending in his fucking body is alight and very turned on. 

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, lips pressed together tight and his eyes squeezed shut. He bucks into Richie’s hand, his own fists braced against the wall.

“So fucking pretty like this.” Richie’s hand dips into Eddie’s underwear and that first touch, the first skin-on-skin contact, is enough to have Eddie crying out. He feels every bit the teenage virgin, like he could come at any second just from a single touch. “So good, sweetheart. I knew you’d come, you’re so fucking smart. Too smart for your own good.”

As he talks he settles into a steady rhythm, not taking Eddie’s cock out of his underwear but stroking him in short, jerky motions. His thumb swipes over the head and comes away sticky. He presses his lips to Eddie’s throat, open mouthed and wet, bites the skin softly and kisses under his jaw. Eddie might faint.

“Richie,” Eddie groans, eyes open now and heavy lidded. He clutches one hand at Richie’s shoulder for balance and sucks in a lungful of air. He feels lightheaded, his orgasm building up quick. 

“I’ve got you,” Richie says, hushed and intense. “I’ve got you, Eddie. M’gonna make you come, okay? Gonna make a fucking mess of you.”

That’s all Eddie can take. He moans when he comes, desperate, broken little sounds that Richie forces out of him, fingernails digging into Richie’s skin even through his t-shirt. He hopes they leave marks. 

“Fuck.” Eddie is faintly aware of Richie undoing his own belt, the hiss of a zipper being dragged down. He slumps whenever Richie moves away, boneless and exhausted. Richie still has one hand braced on the wall beside Eddie’s head but his eyes are closed, mouth hanging open, hand down his pants as he jerks himself off. It’s the hottest fucking thing Eddie has ever seen and he has to reach out and touch.

“Richie,” Eddie murmurs, cupping his face. He doesn’t know what to say, can’t talk smooth and dirty like Richie did for him. He’s too afraid of sounding juvenile and embarrassing himself, killing Richie’s boner or something. Instead he just tangles his hands in Richie’s hair and tugs on it gently, trails his lips over Richie’s neck without ever actually kissing him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he must be doing something right because Richie is breathing heavy, chest heaving.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Richie says, one last time. He comes almost silently, swearing under his breath as Eddie holds him, and then his whole body goes slack. They stand together for a few moments, catching their breath in a sudden, suffocating quiet.

“Shit,” Richie says after a while, pulling back far enough to look at Eddie without going cross eyed. His hair is a mess and his lips are red, kiss bitten. Eddie exhales through pursed lips. “Fuck.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google tells me that rugby is called rugby in America too so if that’s inaccurate.... blame google i’m sorry

Richie is freaking out.

_ Eddie  _ is freaking out, because  _ holy shit his gym coach just jerked him off  _ \- but it’s nothing compared to the colossal panic attack Richie has been in the middle of for the past three days. 

Eddie has spent the weekend trying to reach out to him, but after a hurried, awkward goodbye on Friday evening, it’s been radio silence for the whole weekend. Eddie considered showing up on his doorstep a few times, but decided in the end that, what with how terrified Richie had been, he might actually get himself expelled. 

It would be okay if Richie would answer his damn messages. In all the panic of Friday evening, Eddie hadn’t asked again for Richie’s phone number, so he’s stuck spamming him on Facebook. Richie hasn’t been online since he answered Eddie’s first messages.

Come Monday morning, Eddie is fully expecting to be greeted with another substitute teacher. He might actually lose his mind if they get thrown into yet another slapdash football match, but, to Eddie’s surprise, Richie is waiting in the gym hall when the class arrives.

“Listen up,” he says, clapping his hands. “I don’t know what you got up to while I was away and I don’t care. If anyone tries to slack off in my class because you think you can get away with it then you don’t even want to  _ know  _ how many laps you’ll be doing.”

Eddie is pretty sure there’s a collective gulp from the class. Beverly stands next to him, Ben on her other side, and they exchange an incredulous glance.

“What were you saying about him not being that bad?” Beverly asks, leaning in close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. Eddie laughs weakly, too on edge to reply.

Clearly he was right to be paranoid, because Richie zeroes in on the exchange in seconds. He crosses his arms and scowls, and it’s absolutely the wrong time for Eddie to be distracted by how his biceps look when they’re pressed up against his chest.

“Kaspbrak?” Richie calls out, and the entire class swivels round to stare. “You got something to say?”

_ Fuck him.  _ Is he really turning this around on Eddie and treating him like the bad guy? Richie wanted it just as much as Eddie did. He should have known Richie would have been a public humiliation kind of guy. 

“No,” Eddie says, stony faced and angry. He wants to yell, wants to really tell Richie what he thinks of him, but he can’t of course. Not in front of everybody here.

“No what?” Richie raises an eyebrow.

“No,  _ sir.” _

_ Fuck him so much,  _ Eddie thinks.

They split up into teams and Eddie shuffles to the side with Bev and Ben, dragging his feet. He’s in a foul mood already and he knows they can tell, but he can’t bring himself to muster a smile. Bev brushes her shoulder against his and gives him an inquisitive look, but all he can do it shrug. 

“Do you even know how to play non contact?” Ben asks, pulling a bright red bib over his t-shirt. Eddie grabs a green one.

“How difficult can it be?” He asks. “Get the ball and don’t tackle anybody.”

“Um.” Ben pauses. “I feel like maybe there’s a little more to it than that?”

Eddie is about to reply when Richie blows the whistle, sharp and aggressive and definitely aimed in their direction. It’s probably a good thing he did, because Eddie feels like he’s about to lose his mind and he doesn’t want to channel his anger at Ben when the real problem is at the front of the class.

“Get running,” Richie says, so Eddie runs.

More accurately, he runs to the farthest side of the hall and stays there, hoping that if he keeps as far away from the ball as possible, he won’t have to participate. Beverly shoots him a dirty look that definitely means they’ll be talking later, but Eddie can’t even bring himself to care about that. Right now there’s only one person he wants to talk to, and that’s Richie.

He sidles up to Richie along the edge of the room. “Hey,” he says, keeping his voice low and even so as to avoid attracting attention. “Can we talk?”

“Get out there,” Richie says. “I want to see you score at least once, Kaspbrak.”

“I hate rugby,” Eddie mutters, and then decides that’s not what he should be focusing on right now. “Listen, we need to  _ talk.  _ You’re freaking out.”

“Nope. You need to take part in this class or I might have to fail you.”

“You’re being an asshole. C’mon, Richie, I just–”

Richie turns on him suddenly, clipboard wielded in his hands like he’s ready to hurl it at the next person that pisses him off. “I swear to god, Eddie,” he says. “I will give you detention for a  _ month  _ if you don’t  _ fuck off and play the game.” _

Eddie blinks. There is a part of him that finds Richie’s authority worryingly hot, but there’s a bigger, more prominent part that just finds it impossibly frustrating. If he could just get Richie to talk to him in private, Eddie knows he could calm him down and then maybe they could actually have a rational conversation. He has no idea what he wants to say, but they kind of got each other off at the weekend, and he feels like that warrants a discussion. 

“Fuck you,” Eddie spits, vibrating with anger and pent up energy. His hands ball up into fists and he considers storming out of the building, showing Richie exactly what he thinks of him.

He doesn’t, of course, because he’s never skipped a class before in his life and he’s not going to tarnish his perfect record because some asshole can’t take responsibility.

“Marsh,” Richie calls out suddenly, and Eddie turns back to the game to see Beverly clutching the ball, looking their way. She’s frowning. Eddie’s chest clenches tight with worry– what does she think she knows?

“Pass to Kaspbrak,” Richie continues, and Eddie glares at him. “Now, come on, keep it moving. I want to see everybody get involved.”

Beverly looks between Richie and Eddie before she seems to make up her mind, drawing her arm back and sending the ball hurtling towards Eddie in an impressive throw. It hits him square in the chest and he only just manages to hold onto it, even though it knocks the breath out of him.

“You’re a dick,” Eddie mutters to Richie.

“Get moving,” Richie replies.

Eddie has no fucking clue how to play this game, despite what he said to Ben earlier. He doesn’t even know which side of the hall he’s supposed to be getting the ball to. He’s tempted to just pass it back to Beverly and rid himself of everyone’s attention, but he doesn’t want to throw her under the bus like that.

He starts to run. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Richie moving with him, drifting along the side of the hall as he moves, so Eddie figures he must be going in the right direction. There aren’t many people on his team nearby and he doesn’t want to pass back down in case the other team intercepts, so he weaves in and out of the crowd and heads for the goal. When he gets there he’ll figure out what to do.

Richie is shouting now, yelling out encouragements like their argument never happened, and Eddie is beginning to get distracted. How is he able to just shut himself off like that? How can he forget about everything that happened and focus on the game? Eddie isn’t just angry, he realises, he’s sad too. This is fucking miserable - he likes Richie more than he thought he would ever like anybody and here Richie is, throwing that away like it means nothing. And for what? For a fucking  _ rugby game? _

Something smashes into Eddie’s side. He loses his footing immediately and falls sideways, shoulder hitting the floor, head knocking painfully against the ground. There’s a heavy weight above him, hot breath against his ear, and then whoever it is scrambles backwards, eager to get away.

“What the  _ fuck?”  _ Richie yells, appearing as though out of nowhere at the edge of Eddie’s vision. He rolls onto his back and groans when the world around him blurs. 

“Sorry, coach,” someone says in a slimy, mocking tone, and Eddie should have known that it would be Bowers to take him out. His head is still spinning but the next thing he knows, someone thrusts their outstretched palm into his face, so he reaches up to take it.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks, eyes soft and concerned. Beverly stands beside him with a hand on his shoulder, watching the scene unfold.

“Uh…” Eddie brings a hand to his forehead and winces at the pain that lances through his skull. He’s going to have an ugly bruise there by tomorrow that he won’t be able to hide with makeup or his fringe or any number of dumb looking hats. His heart sinks.

“That’s it,” Richie says suddenly, voice raised, and Eddie looks over. “Get out of my class. Go straight to the principal’s office and I swear to god, if I find out you’ve gone anywhere else then I  _ will  _ make sure you’re back here every day after school if you want any chance of graduating.”

“You can’t–” Henry starts, and the indignation in his voice just brightens Eddie’s day.

“Oh buddy, I can,” Richie cuts him off. There are the sounds of a few shuffling feet and an awkward, tense cough, and then Henry curses and storms towards the door. It slams against the wall as he leaves and then Richie is there, hovering over him.

“Eddie?” He says, brushing past Beverly and Ben. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. There are ice packs in the locker room, let’s go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Beverly says, starting forward, but Richie stops her with a sudden  _ ‘no’. _

“What?” She frowns. “Why not?”

Richie swallows - Eddie watches the movement of his throat and realises with a start that he’s nervous. He looks between Beverly and Richie in an uncomfortable silence.

“Keep playing,” Richie says. “Stick to your teams, you’ve both lost a player. The winning team gets to leave early. Don’t disappoint me.” He throws the last few words over his shoulder as he walks Eddie towards the exit. His hand rests over Eddie’s shoulder and his skin feels warm wherever Richie touches it.

It takes him a moment to realise he’s still supposed to be pissed at Richie, and he shrugs his hand off with an irritated grunt.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says before Richie has the chance to ask. “You didn’t need to overreact like that.”

Richie raises his eyebrows. “Okay,” he says. “Sorry for worrying about your possible concussion. I’ll remember not to make the same mistake next time.”

“There won’t  _ be  _ a next time. This only happened because you made me play.” Eddie heads for the med-box in the corner and tugs at it uselessly, but it won’t budge. 

“It needs a key.” Richie rolls his eyes. “Move over. And you can’t blame me for making you participate, by the way. You should be doing that anyway.”

“Yeah, tell that to my mom. I’m sure she won’t kill you.”

Richie’s shoulders sag. “Eddie, I’m sorry,” he says.

“You should be. You’re acting like a jerk.” He takes the ice pack when Richie offers it to him and presses it to the bump on the side of his head, wincing at the pain and the cold. He should probably get another one for his ribs, but as long as he can hide those under his clothes his mother shouldn’t be able to see, so he’s not too worried.

“I know,” Richie rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, but– shit, Eddie, you’ve gotta understand. This is it for me. If anyone even heard this conversation right now, I’d be fucked.” He sighs, and Eddie can’t swallow back his guilt. Richie looks so stressed and it’s all Eddie’s fault. 

“I get that,” Eddie says quietly. “I just… you know I wouldn’t tell anyone, right? If that’s what you’re thinking. I mean,” he lowers his voice and checks over his shoulder before he continues. “What happened on Friday? At your house? How the fuck would anyone find out about that, Richie? We’re the only two people that would ever know.”

“God, this is so fucking wrong.” Richie says. “Eddie, if we did this… it would be  _ so  _ wrong.”

Eddie shrugs, trying not to look sulky. “Maybe,” he says. “But I like you. And I thought you liked me. So like, I don’t think it would be evil or anything. I’m graduating in under a year anyway, then no one will give a shit what happens with us anyway. You really think those nine months will make a big difference, huh? You really think I can’t make up my own mind about this?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Richie sinks down onto a bench and drops his head into his hands. Eddie’s chest feels tight; he takes a seat next to Richie and lays a hand over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says softly, apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that as in– I didn’t mean it like that. I know that’s not what you were saying. And I really do get why this is such a big deal. If you really do want me to just… stop, then I will. Tell me to stop and I will, okay?”

Eddie can’t stand the idea that he pressured Richie into this. If he found out that he ever made Richie feel uncomfortable with his not-so-little infatuation, he might have to transfer schools and live out the rest of his life as a hermit. 

But Richie looks up suddenly and covers Eddie’s hand with his own, palm soft to the touch. “No,” he says. “I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”

“What?” Eddie asks, breathless. 

“I can’t tell you to stop, Eddie. I don’t want you to. I really fucking like you too. We just…” his eyes dart to Eddie’s mouth and then back, like he couldn’t help himself. “If we do this, we have to be so fucking careful. No more arguing in class, no more showing up on my doorstep unannounced. No more messaging on Facebook either.”

Maybe Eddie should be disappointed about that, but all he can feel is elated. Does this mean what he thinks it means? Is Richie seriously saying yes to this– to them? To the prospect of a relationship? Eddie feels like he might explode from all the pent up energy inside him. He wants to  _ scream. _

“Okay, yeah!” He agrees, nodding eagerly. “Can I at least give you my phone number?”

Richie only hesitates for a moment. “Okay,” he says, albeit reluctantly. “But save my contact as something cryptic, yeah? How does ‘Sex God’ sound?”

“How about ‘Asshole’?” Eddie deadpans, but he can’t keep a straight face for long. His excitement shows in his smile, and Richie grins right back at him. Eddie wants to jump into his arms and just hug him - just wants to feel close to him - but he knows that’s against their new rules.

“Okay,” Eddie says, feeling almost shy again. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Richie replies. For a second he holds his arm out, fingers inches away from Eddie’s face like he’s physically holding himself back from cupping Eddie’s cheek. Then he pulls back and tucks his phone into his pocket, Eddie’s contact saved.

“Hey, Richie?” Eddie asks, struck by a sudden though. “Would you really have dragged Bowers back in every day after school?”

Richie scoffs. “Fuck no. You think I’m tutoring that little bastard every day until summer?” 

Eddie hides his laugh behind his hand, pressing his thigh up against Richie’s where they’re sitting together on the bench. 

“You probably shouldn’t come back to class, by the way,” Richie says once they’ve both fallen silent again. “You might actually have a concussion. Maybe go to the nurse?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll, um, see you later.” He waves goodbye a little awkwardly and speed-walks to the door. Eddie hates the way reality comes crashing back down. He still has the problem of his mother waiting for him at home - maybe he can borrow some makeup from Bev, but if she finds out anyway then it’ll be ten times worse.

Fuck it. Eddie pushes the worries to the very back of his mind and seals them away there, determined not to let anything ruin his good mood. He feels like he’s floating, renewed with enthusiasm for life now that he actually had what he’s wanted for so long. 

That went so much better than Eddie could ever have hoped. Talking to Richie at all makes him feel sort of like he’s floating, but talking to Richie like that, with the guy telling Eddie how much he likes him and how pretty and funny and kind he is, he feels invincible. He feels unstoppable. He feels–

“What the  _ fuck  _ is going on with you?”

All of a sudden there’s a hand wrapping around his arm and tugging him to the side. Eddie stumbles into an empty classroom and whips around to see Beverly in front of him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Bev, what the fuck?”

“Nope. No. You don’t get to act all morally superior to me. Something is going on with you and I want to know what it is.” Her hard expression softens momentarily, and her eyebrows knit together. “Is it your mom? Did something happen? Did she find out about the running? Eddie–”

“It’s not my mom!” Eddie cries. He shouldn’t be talking about this at all, shouldn’t be giving Beverly any information when she’s so close to the truth, but he can’t help it. Eddie is so sick to death of everything in his life revolving around his fucking mother.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s…” Eddie grapples for something to say. He needs an excuse, a lie, anything. “It’s–”

“It’s  _ what,  _ Eddie?”

“It’s just a boy _ ,  _ okay? I’m having… boy trouble.”

Eddie is going to throw up. 

Beverly’s frown deepens. Her arms fall to her sides. “What?” She asks. “Since when did you have boy trouble?”

If only she knew. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait... again... :’)

Eddie looks left, right then left again before crossing the road. There’s nobody around this late in the evening, but Eddie’s been a little paranoid ever since he left through his bedroom window. He hadn’t wanted to sneak out– in fact, he’d done his best to come up with an excuse that his mother would tolerate. He’d asked, for the first time in years, to sleep over at a friend’s house.

Ben’s house, more specifically, because she would never let him stay overnight with Bev and inventing a new friend on the spot would backfire disastrously: she’d want their phone number, their address and their entire life history as well. Eddie had thought Ben would be the safest option, but of course that hadn’t gone to plan either. His mother has been more overprotective than ever lately. 

So he’d had to sneak out, really. It had been his only option besides cancelling, and there was no way Eddie was going to do that. He’s been looking forward to this all week.

He texts Richie as he’s rounding the corner, and waits a few moments, half hidden in the darkness and terrified that he’ll get spotted, until he gets a response. It’s a simple thumbs up emoji. Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes forward.

The probability of Richie’s neighbours curtain twitching are fairly low, seeing as they’re both in their eighties and it’s almost eleven at night, but this is Derry so anything is possible. He makes sure to pull his hood low over his face just in case, and keeps his head down as he knocks on the door. Two knocks, a pause, two more knocks. They’ve even got their own signal - it’s so romantic.

The door swings open suddenly and Eddie is being yanked inside, pushed against the wall before he even has a chance to take his jacket off. Richie kisses him like he’s dying, like he’s been waiting years to do it; he licks into Eddie’s mouth and holds his face still and bites his lip. Eddie laughs breathlessly into his mouth, thoughts swirling. Jesus, he’s already hard. 

“Hi,” he finally says when they separate, breathing hard. “Nice to see you too.”

Richie nudges his shoulder, looking oddly bashful. “Shut up,” he says, grinning. “I’ve been waiting all week to do that. I’ve been waiting all week to get you alone at all.”

There are numerous things Eddie could say to this, but all he can think in that moment is, “We’re alone now. What are you planning to do with me?”

Richie laughs. “I guess,” he says, one hand resting on Eddie’s waist, his fingertips slipping just under Eddie’s t-shirt. Eddie shivers, goosebumps popping up wherever Richie touches him. “It would be something like this.”

This time the kiss is slower, deeper. Richie’s thigh settles in between Eddie’s legs and Eddie grabs Richie’s shoulder for support, nails digging in sharp and painful. His head spins as Richie grinds against him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. Richie’s cock presses insistently against his hip.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Richie says. “It’s not fair. You don’t even  _ know.” _

“Shut up,” Eddie says. He’s blushing, but he can’t deny that the compliment gets to him. He’s getting wet with each drag of Richie’s leg against him, his boxers uncomfortably tight. 

“So,” his breath hitches as Richie leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses from the tender spot behind his ear to the base of his throat. “This was your plan then? Get me alone and make me come in my pants? You’re so –  _ ah, fuck,” _

Richie raises an eyebrow and nips at Eddie’s collarbones. “So?”

“So  _ thoughtful.” _

And then, to Eddie’s horror, Richie steps away. “As lovely as it would be to see you make a mess of yourself,” he says. “I think you might like this more.”

He drops to his knees. Eddie swears, loudly, and his knees wobble; the only thing keeping him upright is the vice like grip he has on Richie’s shoulders, and even that doesn’t feel particularly stable any more. Is Richie about to–

“Tell me to stop.”

Eddie blinks. “What?” He asks.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Richie exhales slowly and rests his forehead against Eddie’s hip. His hands are rubbing up and down Eddie’s thighs, keeping a respectful distance from anywhere too intimate, and it looks like the words hurt to say.

“Richie,” Eddie says softly, cupping Richie’s cheek in his palm. “I don’t want you to stop. I would tell you if I did. Okay?”

Richie turns his head ever so slightly and kisses Eddie’s palm. Despite the circumstances, it’s the sweetest thing Eddie has ever had happen to him and the rush of affection he has for Richie overwhelms him. 

“Okay,” Richie says, and then stokes Eddie’s cock through his jeans. With his other hand, he pops the button and drags the zipper down tantalisingly slow. It’s a tease, Eddie knows, but that doesn’t stop him from whining and lifting his hips into Richie’s hand. The constant pressure feels electric.

“Easy.” Richie steadies him. 

It’s intimidating, being naked in front of someone for the first time ever. He’s not even fully naked, but he’s still more exposed than he’s ever been before and he has to fight the urge to cover himself up with his hands. He gets the feeling Richie wouldn’t like that. It’s a struggle to stand still and wait for Richie to make the first move.

Richie must sense some of Eddie’s apprehension - apparently fear is kind of a boner killer - because he wastes no time in taking Eddie’s cock in his hand and jerking it a few times.

“Beautiful,” he says again, almost reverently, before kissing the tip.

“Jesus,” Eddie gasps. Richie’s tongue swirls around the head. He takes his time exploring Eddie’s cock, running his lips up and down and stroking him with a tight fist. Eddie has tears in his eyes by the time Richie actually takes it in his mouth, sucking gently.

“Whatever works for you,” Richie says with a grin.

“I can’t believe you’re still being–  _ ah,  _ obnoxious with my dick in your mouth,” Eddie says, words broken up by desperate, helpless noises. As if in response to his complaint, Richie suddenly takes him even further, until his lips are closed tight around the base of Eddie’s cock, and the fluttering around the head when Richie swallows has Eddie crying out.

“Oh my  _ god,”  _ he sobs, hand flying to tangle in Richie’s hair. “I’m gonna come. Richie, I’m gonna come.”

Richie pulls off slowly, lips already curled into a sleazy grin. “Already, Eds? Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

“You–” Eddie starts, and then hisses through his teeth as Richie rubs the head of Eddie’s cock over his lips. He smiles like a warning.

“Go on, then,” Richie says, warm breath ghosting over Eddie’s cock maddeningly. “Come. I wanna see it.”

Eddie’s head drops back against the wall with a heavy  _ thunk _ and he screws his eyes shut when he comes, hips twitching as he shudders through it. For the first time since they started, Richie moans, and it’s so unexpected and so fucking  _ hot  _ that Eddie’s cock dribbles once more. When he opens his eyes, it’s to see Richie on his knees, hair stuck to his forehead, lips and cheeks covered with Eddie’s come. Eddie is so mortified and so turned on at the same time, he could die.

“Holy shit,” he says, his knees finally giving out on him. He sinks down the wall until he’s level with Richie, reaching out blindly to draw him in closer.

“I’ve got you,” Richie mutters, which should be funny - Richie is one of the least stable people Eddie knows, second only to his mom - but all he feels is warm and safe and cared for. He kisses Richie and tastes himself on his tongue.

He’s vaguely aware of Richie’s arm moving in quick, deliberate strokes and remembers somewhat guiltily that that’s how things ended last time: he never got the chance to touch Richie, to thank him. He kneels up and steadies himself with one hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“Let me,” he says. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to,” Richie answers, although his hand stills around his cock.

“Obviously.” 

Eddie doesn’t waste any time; he knocks Richie’s hand out of the way and wraps his fingers around his erection, squeezing slightly. He’s never done this to anyone else but, he figures, it can’t be much different to jerking off. The angle is a little awkward but Eddie has always been a fast learner when he’s properly motivated. 

“Tell me how you like it,” Eddie murmurs, burning with curiosity all of a sudden and eager to please. “Show me what you want me to do.”

Richie’s breathing comes out shallow and ragged. Eddie’s words must stir something in him because his cock throbs and Eddie’s fingers are wet with precome. 

“Jesus,” Richie gasps. “Just– just take it at your pace.”

_ “No.  _ Tell me what you want.”

Richie’s forehead creases with concern. He’s tempted, Eddie can tell, but he’s holding himself back, and if it’s out of some misplaced guilt or worry then Eddie will be pissed.

“Come on,” Eddie says softly, rubbing his thumb over the head of Richie’s cock. “You can do anything. You can tell me to do anything. I’m yours.”

His self control splinters. Richie groans and his eyes flutter shut.

“Fuck, Eds,” he says. “I wanna come on your face.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn. He’s embarrassed at the idea, at the prospect of doing something so filthy, but more than that he’s embarrassed at how much it turns him on. He’s embarrassed at how readily he urged Richie to his feet and looks up, on the floor between Richie’s legs.

Richie takes over, jerking himself off hard and fast and then, after only about thirty seconds, he comes over Eddie’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose and his damp, parted lips. 

*

It’s half an hour later when Eddie summons enough strength to crawl out of bed. After they’d caught their breath, Richie had startled Eddie by sweeping his feet out from under him and carrying him upstairs, dropping him down onto the bed. It had been a rather abrupt introduction to Richie’s bedroom, but Eddie has been too tired to care.

Now that he’s properly awake and able to look around, he takes the place in. It’s spacious but empty, only a bed and a wardrobe taking up half of the room. There are a few cardboard boxes still taped shut with ‘spare clothes’ and ‘misc.’ scrawled on the side. He’s been here almost two months now, Eddie thinks with a twinge in his chest. He should have finished unpacking by now.

Maybe he doesn’t want to unpack. Maybe he doesn’t really want to be here, in this strange town with people he doesn’t know and the memories of a life he didn’t want to leave behind. 

Or maybe, Eddie thinks with a slow, calming breath, he should stop jumping to conclusions. Richie probably just hasn’t gotten around to it. Eddie wants to offer to help decorate the place, but he’s worried it might be a bit too presumptuous.

“Ugh, go back to sleep,” Richie groans, rolling onto his back. Eddie takes a moment to look at him too, at the way his biceps tense when he ticks his arms behind his head, the way his chest rises and falls gently, scattered with hair and defined with muscle. His hair falls over the pillow like a crown around his head. He’s beautiful.

Of course, Eddie can’t tell him that. Richie’s who is already big enough.

“I’m hungry,” he says, heading for Richie’s wardrobe. If offering to help decorate the place would be presumptuous then going through his clothes without asking definitely is, but when Eddie risks a glance back at him, Richie is propped up on his elbow and he’s watching Eddie with a fond smile.

“I think they’ll be a bit big on you,” he says, tilting his head. 

Eddie shrugs, picking out a soft pair of tracksuits and slipping them on. It’s warm enough that he doesn’t need to wear a t-shirt, and if Richie appreciates the view then that’s just an added bonus.

Sure enough, the covers rustle as Richie gets out of bed and moves closer to Eddie, his chest pressed flush to Eddie’s back. He’s so warm and, when he wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck and drapes them over his chest, Eddie feels completely enveloped. 

“You sure you don’t want to come back to bed?” Richie murmurs, lips brushing Eddie’s ear. Eddie shivers. It’s tempting - really tempting…

And then his stomach rumbles. Richie laughs, pulling back. 

“Alright, alright,” he says. “Let’s see what’s in the kitchen, I guess.”

Eddie doesn’t have high hopes, and his expectations are met when he opens the fridge to see a few old yoghurts and half a loaf of bread staring back at him. 

“Uh,” Richie says, scratching the back of his neck. “I usually order take out. How does pizza sound?”

“And here I thought you wanted me to stay in shape. Aren’t you supposed to be my Coach?”

“Don’t tell me I’m a bad influence on you?” Richie looks positively delighted at the prospect.

“My mother would certainly think so,” Eddie says, hopping up onto the counter and swinging his legs. “She’d think you were a delinquent.”

Richie’s smile dims, and for a moment Eddie is worried that that was genuinely offensive. Then Richie sighs and throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulders.

“Speaking of your mother...” he starts.

“Oh no.” Eddie narrows his eyes. “You’re going to talk about my mother after what we just did?”

“Is that your way of telling me you don’t have a daddy kink?”

Eddie is  _ this  _ close to throwing mouldy bread in Richie’s face. 

“No, seriously though.” Richie clears his throat, shuffling on the spot. “I– you know the track competition is coming up soon, right? It’s just that I kind of need a parental signature for you to be allowed to go.”

_ “What?” _

“I’m sorry! I only found out last week when the principal gave me the permission slips and I’ve been trying to figure out how to bring it up because I know your mom will never give your permission and I felt like such an idiot for not thinking about this before and now I’ve made you work so hard for nothing and I–”

Eddie leans up on his tiptoes to kiss Richie firm on the mouth and shut him up. 

“No,” Eddie says.

Richie blinks. “Um. No?”

“No. This has not all been for nothing, okay?”

“But your mom–”

“Doesn’t have to know.” Eddie is overwhelmed by the strength of his conviction. In these past two months he’s broken more of his mother’s rules than he knows exist, and maybe it’s all been leading up to this. “I’ve faked her signature before. I can do it again, and it’s not like the principal ever actually checks. There’s no way she would find out unless someone contacts her about it, and who the fuck would do that?”

“Shit,” Richie breathes. “Eddie. I kinda wish you hadn’t told me that. I can’t let you fake it.”

“What, are you gonna stop me?” A smile spreads slowly across Eddie’s face. He feels… independent, the first time in his life. “Are you gonna tell on me?”

Richie’s arms encircle his waist. “I should…” he says, his nose brushing Eddie’s temple. “If anyone were to find out–”

“They won’t. I promise you they won’t.”

Richie sighs, and there’s a tense moment of silence in which Eddie worries his lower lip, thinking that even after all of this Richie might tell him no, might tell him that their training has all been for nothing and he should actually probably go home now too. But then Richie smiles and kisses the tip of Eddie’s nose and rubs circles into his back.

“Alright,” he says. “You little rebel. Corrupt me, why don’t you?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another long wait! This fic WILL get finished... at some point...

Beverly catches up to him as he’s leaving biology, one arm clutching her books to her chest, the other reaching towards him. She stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder and a stern look.

“We need to talk,” she says, more serious than Eddie has ever heard her. The back of his neck feels clammy and overly warm.

“Um, okay?” He says, letting her tug him into the nearest empty classroom and shut the door. For a moment he’s convinced that Beverly has found out about Richie, that she’s going to confront him and make him tell, and his chest feels tight. His eyes glint with unshed tears.

Then Beverly sighs and leans back against the door and crosses her arms. It’s such a familiar, comforting, _Beverly_ thing to do that the tension drains out of him. He knows Bev. She’s his best friend, she isn’t going to rat him out. At the very least, not without giving him the chance to change her mind first. She’s the only person he has never lost faith or trust in; he doesn’t have to be afraid to talk to her.

“What’s going on with you?” She starts, and Eddie waits for her to finish. She’s only getting warmed up. “You’re acting weird, you’re hardly ever around anymore, and the next thing I know you’re having _boy_ trouble? Eddie, you never have boy trouble.”

Beverly takes his hand and Eddie turns his palm up, laces their fingers together. His pulse races.

“Listen, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me. Alright?”

Eddie nods. He’ll never lie to Bev. Never again, at least.

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, as though she’s bracing herself for an answer she might not like. “Eddie. Do you have a boyfriend?”

All of Eddie’s breath leaves him in a whoosh. He tries not to hesitate when he says, “Yes.”

Bev nods, chin tucked into her chest, as though that was the answer she was expecting. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wanted to tell you. But it needs to be a secret. It _needs_ to, Bev.”

“Is he in the closet?” She asks, frowning. “Or is he just ashamed to be with you? Because–”

“No, it’s not that. Neither of those. You know I wouldn’t want to be with someone who was ashamed of me.” But even as he says it, Eddie knows that isn’t quite true. If Richie came to him now and said that no one could know they were dating, simply because he didn’t want anyone to know he’d be with someone like _Eddie_ , Eddie would stay with him. He already cares too much for that to be a dealbreaker. This is how people hurt you, Eddie thinks. They get under your skin and get a grip on your heart and they don’t let go. 

“Then what?” Beverly asks, and she sounds so exasperated that Eddie can’t help hanging his head, shame-faced. 

“He’s... older,” he says diplomatically. “And– you know, my mom. If she found out I don’t know what she’d do. Probably pull me out of school, send me to a camp or something.”

“Did you think I’d _tell_ her? That I’d be a risk to you?” Bev asks, looking so aghast and insulted and _hurt_ that Eddie can’t stand it.

“ _No_.” He shakes his head. “Bev, not at all. I trust you, okay? More than anyone. But– I mean, what was I supposed to do? He asked me not to tell anyone, and I didn’t want to betray him.”

“I wouldn’t have told anyone.” Bev folds her arms. She’s still frowning, but her voice is a little softer now. 

“I know,” Eddie says. “I’m sorry.”

“Well...” she shuffles her feet and her lips curl into a sly smile. “I know about him now. Can you tell me about him?”

Eddie smiles despite himself. He has been wanting this, craving this more than he realised, the normalcy of being able to gossip about his boyfriend with his best friend. The urge to spill all his secrets is almost overwhelming, and only residual guilt and the memory of the terrified look on Richie’s face after they kissed for the first time hold him back. 

“He’s...” Eddie starts, then sighs. A grin spreads across his face. “Bev, he’s _so_ cool. He’s such a dork, but he’s really funny too. And he’s really nice, and I think he really likes me. He listens to me, and he lets me complain about things and I just... he makes me feel like I could do anything. All this time I’ve been holding myself back, you know? Because of my mom or because of Bowers or because I was scared that I wouldn’t actually be able to do anything, but he _changed_ that. And I thought it wasn’t something that could be changed.”

Beverly is watching him with kind eyes and a soft smile. She squeezes his hand and cups his face with the other. “He sounds amazing, Eddie. You do deserve someone that makes you feel happy, okay? Despite what you might think. And fuck what your _mom_ would think, okay? She doesn’t deserve to know if she’d make you feel bad for it.”

“I know,” Eddie says, even as guilt burns in his chest. He leans into Bev’s soft hand, feeling so comfortable he can hardly bear it. He’s still close to crying.

“I remember feeling like that with Ben,” she says suddenly, and Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“Past tense?” He asks.

“No, I still do. But it was more intense at the start. Because you feel like you’re so boring, and worthless, that nobody could ever love you properly. How people are supposed to be in love with people, you know? Like it could just never happen. And then it does, and you feel like they’re the most amazing person of all time because they make you feel special, and they look past all your flaws and they care about you anyway.”

“But?” Eddie prompts, because he knows Bev well enough by now to know that there’s one on the way.

Bev smiles. “But, that’s how it should be. Because you’re not boring or worthless, Eddie, and,” she looks down, and then up to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “And neither am I. We deserve love. I know that now, and it’s easy to forget it sometimes, but we do. So treating you well, it shouldn’t be a bonus, Eddie. It should be an expectation. Alright?”

Eddie squirms. Bev’s stare is so intense that he can’t think under it. “I know,” he says.

“Do you?”

Eddie sighs. “I’ll work on it,” he promises.

“Me too,” Bev says, and then punches his shoulder with a grin. “Now that that’s out of the way, tell me about him.”

“I just did!”

“No, I want you to tell me about _him_. What’s he _like_?”

“Oh!” Eddie’s cheeks flame. He wants to bury his face in a pillow. “Jesus, Bev! I don’t ask you about you and Ben.”

“That’s because you told us we were never allowed to talk about it in front of you or you’d stop being our friend.”

“The threat still stands,” He sniffs.

“Well, are you?” She continues, and Eddie groans.

“ _Fine_ , whatever. Kind of. We’re... doing some stuff. We haven’t... done _it_ yet, okay?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? It’s kind of nerve wracking.”

“It is.” Bev nods. “But it’s also really fun. And it can be really special, sharing that with someone you care about. It’s a good way to be vulnerable together.” She pauses, and then considers him in a familiar way that has Eddie worried. 

“What are you planning...” he says, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing!” Bev holds her hands up in surrender. “Just... have you talked to him about this?”

Eddie shrugs again, eyebrows furrowed. “Not really. It’s like... the age difference isn’t a big deal, okay? Until this. And then suddenly I feel like this young, stupid kid compared to him.”

Bev’s expression hardens. “Is that what he says?”

“No! No, not at all, he would never say that. It’s just, it would be my first time, and he’s already experienced.”

“That could be a good thing too,” Bev suggests carefully. “Less awkward, probably. There are benefits to dating someone more experienced, you know.”

The tips of Eddie’s ears burn. “Okay, I think this conversation is over.”

“I’m just trying to help!” Beverly says, but she’s stifling a laugh and her grin turns devilish. 

“Nope, we’re never talking about this again. And we’re already late to gym, so we should go.”

Christ knows how he’s going to suffer through a whole hour of Richie, sweaty and dressed in tight gym shorts, after having this conversation. Heaven forbid he pops a boner in class. That might really clue Beverly in to what’s going on.

“Oh, fine,” she says, and loops her arm through his. “Let’s go, then.”

Eddie doesn’t make eye contact with Richie for the next hour. He never quite stops blushing.

*  
And the thoughts don’t fade after school gets out. They linger even as he makes his way home and as he sits through dinner with his mother. Long after she’s gone to sleep, as Eddie sits cross legged in bed waiting for Richie to call, he can’t stop thinking about it.

About sex. Sex with Richie.

They’ve been doing it, haven’t they? They’ve been doing some things, and Eddie has been enjoying that. Richie is gentle when he needs to be and rough when he wants to be and always so attentive. Eddie doesn’t have much experience, but if he did then Richie would probably be his best. 

Would it even be that much different if they went all the way?

Eddie knows, in theory, what’s supposed to happen. Would Richie want to be on top, or would he not have a preference? Would that be a dealbreaker? Why is he getting so scared about this when he could just be talking about it to Richie? He’s never been so nervous to start a conversation before.

When his phone finally starts buzzing, Eddie has worked himself up into a panic. He hesitates with his phone in his hand, heart pounding, before he clicks to answer.

“Evening,” Richie says instantly, smile so audible that a knot of tension in Eddie’s chest loosens. 

“Evening yourself,” Eddie says with a grin. “How are you?”

“I’m quite alright. There was this mouthy little brat in my class this afternoon, but I think I put him in his place.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, now I’ll just have to think up a suitable punishment.”

A laugh bubbles up suddenly and Eddie claps a hand over his mouth, listening for any sign of his mother coming down the hall. There’s no telltale creak of floorboards, but Eddie is still cautious.

“That’s kinky,” he whispers, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think he’d do what you said?”

“I can be very persuasive,” Richie says, and Eddie knows they’re joking around, but the way Richie’s voice lowered so suddenly has heat stirring in his belly. His conversation with Bev pops into his head again, and anxiety overcomes any arousal he might have felt.

Richie must notice the prolonged silence, because he says, “Eddie? Too much?”

“No, no.” Eddie hurried to reassure him - he doesn’t want Richie feeling guilty when the problem is entirely with himself. “Don’t worry. I was just– remembering something.”

“Okay...” Eddie can practically hear the frown in his voice. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Eddie hesitates. “Maybe?”

“Yeah?”

“I just...” he bites his lip and throws himself onto his back so he can pull the covers up to his shoulders. “I was just thinking. About sex.”

Richie coughs. “ _Oh_.”

“Um. Yeah. Sorry,” Eddie says, wishing the ground would open up and save him the humiliation of talking his way out of this. 

“Don’t apologise,” Richie says instantly, and warmth blooms in Eddie’s chest. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Can I ask what you were thinking about?”

“Just... that. I know we’ve already done stuff and– and I _want_ to sleep with you, you know? I’m just nervous. And I shouldn’t be, because it’s not even that big of a deal. Maybe I’m worried I won’t be any good. Eddie knows that Richie is stifling a laugh without needing to see him. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, not wanting to encourage him. “I’m serious!” He says.

“I know!” Richie replies. “I’m not laughing at you, okay? I just... Eddie, you really don’t need to worry about being bad. That’s definitely not going to be a problem.”

Eddie chews his thumbnail. “Do you... want me?” He asks, voice small and pathetic and embarrassing. 

“Eddie,” Richie says, unbearably soft. “Of course I want you. You’re gorgeous. To be honest, I can’t believe that you’re with me in the first place. I can’t believe that I get to be your first. You don’t have to worry about me not wanting you, alright? Because it’ll never happen. You’re amazing.”

Eddie squirms, cheeks on fire. “Shut up,” he mutters.

“Oh, what’s that? You want me to keep going?”

“Richie–”

“Amazing, beautiful, funny, smart–”

“ _Richie_!” Eddie cries, but he’s giggling behind his hand and curling his toes into his duvet. “You’re so annoying, oh my god.”

“Okay, okay,” Richie relents. “Just promise me you won’t worry about it, alright? If you want it to happen, it’ll happen.”

“Alright. I promise.”

“Just,” Richie says. “Maybe it should happen after the competition, yeah?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Are you blackmailing me? Is this a ‘no sex unless I win’ sort of deal? Because that might be more effective if I wasn’t a virgin.”

“Would that work?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Shame.” There’s a rustling sound on the other end and Eddie strains to listen, wishing desperately that he could see Richie instead of just hear him. He wants to know if the man is in bed, what he’s wearing, whether he’s relaxed and soft and vulnerable like Eddie is. 

“Then why?” Eddie presses.

“Eddie, you won’t be able to _walk_ after I’m done with you, let alone run.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. All of a sudden his bedroom is stuffy and his duvet suffocatingly warm, twisting around his ankles. His cock stirs against his thigh.

“Oh,” he breathes, hand travelling down his stomach slowly. He bites his lip and imagines Richie doing it instead, Richie’s hand slipping inside his pyjama bottoms and wrapping around his cock, fingers loose and tentative. 

Richie wouldn’t be tentative, though. He wouldn’t be afraid to touch Eddie. He would be confident and self assured, his grip firm, his fingers warm and calloused. Eddie rubs the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock and keens.

“Jesus,” Richie hisses, and he’s definitely touching himself now, breathless grunts and helpless gut punched noises down the line. Eddie draws in a ragged breath.

“Fuck, Richie,” he says. “Wish you were here. Need to see you again.”

“You see me everyday,” Richie says, the asshole. “Your gym shorts are cute and all, but I don’t think your friends would appreciate the show.”

Eddie stills his hand. “Can you _not_ talk about my friends when I’m literally jerking off?” He snipes. 

“No,” Richie agrees. “Just you.” Which sends a throb of arousal to his cock. He starts stroking himself again, faster this time, eager to get off. He spits into his hand to make it slicker, easier, even though it’s disgusting, and he’s wet enough at the tip that he probably didn’t need it. 

“God, Eddie,” Richie says. His voice is sinfully low and gravelly. “You don’t even know how much I want you. It’s all I can think about sometimes.”

“Fucking me,” Eddie says, just to hear what it sounds like. 

“ _Yes_. Fucking you.”

“Tell me,” Eddie pleads. “Tell me what it’ll be like.”

Not ‘what it _would_ be like’. It’s going to happen.

“I’ll be really gentle for your first time,” Richie says, voice so low it’s almost a whisper. Eddie bites his knuckles to keep from moaning out loud. “Get you all wet first, get my fingers in you one by one, make you come like that. You ever tried that, Eds?”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, thighs trembling. He’s so hard, so hot in his own fist, he’s beginning to ache.

“No,” he gasps. “No.”

“Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna fucking love it, I can already tell. You’re gonna love being finger-fucked.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie’s mouth falls open in a silent cry. His cock pulses and then he’s coming, shuddering and falling apart as Richie listens to the whole thing. If he wasn’t hazy and come-drunk he might be embarrassed about that, but as it is he only has enough strength to concentrate on staying awake before he ends the call.

“Okay?” Richie asks, startling in the sudden silence. Eddie grabs a tissue from his bedside table and wipes his hand clean with a wince.

“I’m still conscious,” Eddie replies, although he won’t be for long. He closes his eyes and wriggles further down the bed until he can rest his head on the pillow.

“Well, I’m not. If I don’t get some sleep then I’m gonna end up going easy on my eighth graders tomorrow.”

“God forbid they start to think you have a heart.”

Richie snorts. “Brat,” he says fondly. “I’m going to bed. You should probably get some sleep too.”

“Okay, _dad_.” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“There you go again,” Richie says, but he already sounds distant and sleepy, and Eddie offers a brief ‘goodnight’ before he hangs up.

A weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He can’t believe he ever considered _not_ talking to Richie about it, because he feels so much more comfortable now that he can’t remember ever being nervous. 

He’ll win the competition, and then he’ll have sex with Richie. No one can say he doesn’t have his priorities in order.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


End file.
